Something More
by swimchick101
Summary: George's seventh year at Hogwarts brings him fun, adventure, pranks, and...love? Follows book 5 closely but not exactly.
1. A Dream is a Wish

Chapter 1

_A dream is a wish your heart makes  
When you're fast asleep  
In dreams you lose your heartaches  
Whatever you wish for, you keep  
Have faith in your dreams and someday  
Your rainbow will come smiling thru  
No matter how your heart is grieving  
If you keep on believing  
the dream that you wish will come true_1

"Geddup!"

His mind was foggy with sleep. He'd been dreaming. Blissful dreams. Full of beautiful girls, smiling and laughing, his favorite part of their anatomy bouncing in time with their giddiness. He was on a beach, the sound of the gentle waves splashing against the shore a short distance away. There was a bodacious blonde above him. The shadows of her hair were blocking her face as she leaned towards him. He saw her eyes, though. Deep pools of dark blue. The darkest blue eyes he'd ever seen. Like midnight, or deep ocean water, or…

"George! Geddup!"

A soft object was smashed roughly in his face and his eyes shot open, the image of the girl fading as he became accustomed to the light in his small bedroom. He sat up in his bed – a pillow promptly smashed into his face again – and looked around. His brother's bed, adjacent to his, was empty, the plain blue comforter thrown back, matching bare sheets beneath with a slight indentation from the over use of the mattress.

"Have a good dream, then?" His twin brother was standing over him, looking pointedly down at his lap. George forced himself not to get embarrassed.

"How'd you guess?"

Another pointed look downwards and Fred snorted. "You were mumbling about girls in bikinis…"

George glanced down at his lap, and, though it was covered with his sheets, there was a noticeable tent there. His sheets were blue, too.

Midnight blue.

A vision of the blonde came back to him; a smile spread over his face. It was not the first time he'd dreamed of that girl, and he hoped it wouldn't be the last. The night before last, the twins' first official night as no-longer-sixth-years-almost-seventh-years-at-Hogwarts had just been another night with the girl of his dreams. That time, she was sitting on a stool in the middle of the dark room, strumming a guitar. Her eyes bore into him as she moved her head a bit wildly. And a few days prior to that, he stood on a platform, thousands of people staring at him, their lips moving, some of them jumping, but they all seemed to be saying the same thing. He couldn't make it out, however, there was no sound. He had moved his head to the right a bit, and out of his peripheral vision he'd seen the flash of blonde hair before he was woken.

"…breakfast. She wants us to go into the village and fetch some eggs. Says the chickens are being a bit shy, what with the new faces…are you listening to me?" Fred's eyes narrowed at his brother, and George smiled sheepishly.

"Right, breakfast then eggs. Do I at least have time to shower?"

"Sorry, mate, that's what you get for having a lie in." Fred left George to get dressed and George fell back onto the bed, unable to shake the girl from his head.

He smiled in spite of it.

He moved around his room, his feet scraping a plank of burnt wood on the floor. He looked down. The scorched wood was about a foot wide, and he remembered that combing shrivelfigs and bubotuber pus – which he and his twin had been experimenting with for a few different Wheezes – had…explosive effects. He shook his head and moved to the wall just beyond his bed, where a small chest of drawers stood. The dark wood stood out against the plain white walls of the small room.

He grabbed a pair of tan trousers from the top of the chest and slid them on. He then proceeded to lift his left arm in the air, bend his head at an odd angle to get his nose as close to the source as possible, and suck in a big breath of air through his nose. His head snapped up. He contemplated for a moment, then shrugged. _Not _too_ bad_. He grabbed the closest shirt to him – which happened to be a hand-me-down polo that was once a dark forest green when Bill had it, but now had faded to a light green – and pulled it over his head.

"George!"

The voice was his mothers. She was undoubtedly at the bottom of the staircase, and he on the third floor in a room with a closed door. He shook his head to himself, pulling on his trainers. Grabbing his wand off of the small desk next to the door, he left his room and hurried down the stairs.

"'Morning, mum," said George sweetly, kissing his mum on the cheek as he made his way into the kitchen.

"Gosh, George, you take longer to get ready than I do," he heard Ginny mumble into her cereal. Ginny, the only girl in the family, got away with so much more than she should have just because of that fact. George turned to his sister.

"Got an image to uphold, don't we Fred?" George took hold of the ends of his collar and pulled forward, before wiping a thumb across his nose.

"'Course we do, twin." Fred mimicked his brother's actions with his own shirt and then the leaned on each other shoulder to shoulder, arms crossed over their chests.

"Get going," their mum pushed them towards the door, thrusting toast towards George. "Hurry back. I need those eggs!"

"Yes, mum," the twins said in unison before exiting the kitchen and moving into the back garden. "Ready twin?"

"Ready!"

They linked arms and pulled out their wands from the waistbands of their trousers. With a flourish of said wands, and a tap on their heads, the identical set disappeared with a loud 'crack.'

They appeared at the edge of the village with a loud 'pop' and immediately ducked behind a large pile of firewood. Fred was uneasy on his feet, and he held on to George to keep him standing.

"You okay?" He heard George whisper.

"I'll be fine," he shook his head vigorously, which only succeeded in making him more dizzy. "We are walking back," muttered Fred. "I need more practice over short distances."

"Plenty of time for that. I look forward to scaring ickle Ronniekins once Hermione gets here."

Once he was sure the coast was clear, he stood up and stepped out from behind the pile of wood. He dragged Fred to his feet, who pressed his palms into his eyes, and then they started off.

"'Course, we end up at the opposite side of the village we need to be on," Fred muttered, only loud enough for George to hear him.

"Shit! Did mum give you money?"

Fred smiled and held up a wad a paper bills. "What would you do without me, Forge?"

"I dunno, Gred."

They walked a bit farther into the village. There were carts set up along the path, shops lined either side. George recognized the paper shop Fred had met that muggle in and sighed.

"Too bad she moved," Fred turned to him, smiling. "She was a particularly good shag."

George rolled his eyes and continued walking along the path. He could see the shop ahead, and Fred moved ahead of him to make more room for the people in the busy shopping area. It was particularly crowded that day.

George groaned as something was thrust into his stomach and he looked up, the breath knocked out of him. An elderly woman stood in front of him, her hair fell in curly gray tangles over her shoulders and her brown eyes were anything but friendly.

"Watch where you're going!" She snapped, pushing past him and moving along the walkway. Nevermind the fact that she was on the wrong side of the street, George turned after her.

"Sorry!" he called. As he turned back to call for Fred, a shop caught his eye. He was standing in front of a large window with large block letters painted across the top that stated the place was 'Maggie's Music Shoppe'.

He pressed his face against the glass. Inside, many muggle musical instruments lined the walls. He noticed opened instrument cases, and a the back wall covered with guitars. There were stands set up in the middle of the room, as well. And in the middle of the room was a familiar looking girl. Her blonde hair was curly, but not naturally curly. Curly like it needed something to help set the curls in place. George briefly wondered if she'd used a charm or potion, but he shook his head.

"Muggle," he muttered, his warm breath fogging to glass. He returned his gaze to the girl.

She was sitting on a stool, her long, jean-clad legs crossed at the knees. She wore dark brown boots that stopped just before her legs crossed. They didn't look like leather, but more of a suedey, softer material. It looked like one of the spiky heels of her boot was caught on the rung of the stool. Her other foot was moving up and down rhythmically.

She had a light blue guitar resting across her legs, and delicate, graceful fingers strummed the strings. There were cords coming out of the side, which disappeared on the other side of her. Her hair was pushed back behind her ears, and what looked like earmuffs covered her them. Her eyes were closed and her lips were moving. Her head lolled back from side to side.

"Oi! What do you think you are doing?" A voice shouted from right next to George. He jumped at the intrusion and turned. A portly woman stood next to an open door, anger written across her age-ridden features. Her forehead was crinkled in wonder, and she held a dirty, oil-stained rag in her hand.

"S-sorry," he mumbled and backed away from the window, but he turned towards it. The girl had stood up and was looking at him, the earmuffs now around her neck and the guitar held in just one hand. Another blonde girl had joined her, holding a guitar of the same style but red in color, cherry red.

"Don't even think about it," the woman snapped, swinging the rag at George. "I know all about you! Don't even think about getting near my nieces!" George backed away from the woman and turned to her. "…bad reputation…poor Nina…"

Nina was the girl from the paper shop Fred had shagged.

George turned on his heel and pushed past people. He reached Fred as fast as he could and promptly smacked him on the back of his head.

"Ow!" Fred cried. "What was that for?"

"You're a git," George stated simply.

"A git who's got eggs," he told him, holding up the mesh bag he'd gotten from the storekeeper. "Let's go, I'm still feeling a bit woozy."

"Yeah, you're not the only one."

On the walk back to the their home, George proceeded to tell his twin about the girl, the old woman, and then – when Fred looked at him, confused – proceeded to lecture Fred on his "shag-'em-and-leave-'em" lifestyle.

Fred ended up laughing, almost dropping the eggs in the process, as they made their way into the front yard. The building was well hidden from muggle eyes, and the walk had taken the twins twenty minutes to make. The Burrow was an old building, with many floors jutting out at weird angles. The place looked like it would fall over at any moment. They knew it wouldn't, for it was held up by magic.

They walked across the yard, both laughing and shoving at each other the whole time, but their laughter and smiles died as they reached the front door. The door was open and two trunks stacked one on top of the other were resting at the bottom of the staircase. They opened the screen door and walked inside. As the door slammed closed, a shriek was heard from the kitchen.

"Oh, boys! Good! You're back!" their mum hurried from the kitchen and into the hall where the twins were standing.

"We have eggs!" Fred smiled, holding up the bag. Yellow egg yolk was dripping from the bottom. "Some, anyway."

"Thanks, dears," their mum took the bag from Fred and turned to the kitchen. An older gentleman with the same red hair as all of the Weasley's had, walked out.

"Boys, go get your trunks packed and down here. Hurry now," their dad said, clapping their hands together. "We don't have much time."

The twins looked at each other and then back at their father. Then, onto their mother, who was leaning over, sniffling. "What's going on?" It was Fred.

"We are moving to a safer location," their dad said, stiffly. "Hurry, please."

The twins moved around their father and rushed up the stairs to the third floor landing. Fred entered first, a proceeded to make sure everything they had and would need was in his trunk with unbreakable charms on them.

George had never been more happy to be of age than at this moment. Some of the stuff they had been working with…well, it wouldn't do for it to be flopping freely in a trunk. Who knew what would happen?

George's trunk hadn't been unpacked since the train ride home from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry only two days previous. He simply threw the clothes he'd worn into his trunk, closed and locked it, and pulled out his wand. He did a locomotor charm and watched as the trunk rose into the air. He followed his brother down the stairs.

"How are we getting there?" Ginny was clapping excitedly. Ron, their youngest brother, who was fifteen now, was looking rather bored as he leaned against his and Ginny's trunks.

"We are going to floo to the Leaky Cauldron and take the Knight Bus from there," their dad said. "Everyone got everything? It will be rather hard to come back here once we are gone."

"But why?" Fred asked incredulously. No one seemed to be telling them anything. _If only we'd just apparated back…but no, Fred's queasy…_

"We will explain once we get there."

_Leave it to mum to appease her boys._

"Where?"

_Oh good, at least Ron seems to know as much as us._

"Ron, you first," his mum insisted. George noted Ron's scowling face as he disappeared into the green flames of the fireplace in the kitchen. Their mum went next followed by Ginny. Then it was George's turn.

"See you, twin."

"Right behind you, twin."

George stepped out of the fireplace at the Leaky Cauldron and dusted off his shirt, noticing now that the rest of his family also wore muggle clothing. He hoisted his trunk behind him and joined his mum, brother, and sister waiting for the rest of his family. They appeared and the sextet made their way out onto the street. George quickly became absorbed in his surroundings: the other dank shops and pubs that lined the busy street. Many people pushed around the family, and George started when a huge, shockingly purple, three-decker bus screeched to a halt in front of them.

A rather pimply young man with large ears stepped off the bus. He wore a purple uniform with a small brass plate pinned to his chest with 'Stan' etched on it. Their dad quickly conversed with the man, whilst Fred made a few remarks about pimples under his breath. Ron and Ginny laughed, but their mum shot them a look. Their dad turned.

"Okay you lot, all set. Dumbledore'll be waiting for you. I must get back to work!" with that, the red head disappeared back into the Leaky Cauldron. George was thrust forward, his trunk dragged behind him and stored underneath the squishy seats he and Fred sat in. Ron and Ginny sat behind them, and their mum was across.

As the bus jolted forward, George seized himself around the middle. He faintly heard Ron telling Ginny to 'breathe' behind him, nearly forgetting to do so himself. The bus sped through London and George could hardly wait for them to reach their destination.

It was a short ride, but as George exited the bus on wobbly legs, he vowed to never use that mode of transportation. He'd rather fly, thank you very much.

They met Dumbledore halfway up the block from where they were dropped off, and then they walked. The younger Weasley's trunks dragged along the ground. George kicked himself for not doing a shrinking spell. Although, there was already a spell to make the inside of his trunk lager, and he didn't want them to counteract each other.

_Please, not much farther._

He was still a bit queasy from the ride, and his arm was beginning to hurt from dragging his trunk three blocks.

They made a right turn and were on a street named 'Grimmauld Place.' George silently prayed not much further again, when, suddenly, the elders in front of him stopped. He dropped his trunk and began furiously shaking his arm.

"Why didn't you just do a charm, George?" Ginny whispered behind him. He noticed she wasn't straining at all, nor as out of breath as he and Fred seemed to be. "Mum did a weight reducing charm on ours," she motioned to Ron, who smirked at him. Their mum thrust a piece of parchment into Fred's hands and told him to memorize it.

"Bloody – " he turned when a building immerged in front of them.

"Here…" the parchment was passed to him and he read it.

_Order of the Pheonix…what? Number twelve Grimmauld Place…_he looked around…_nope, eleven and thirteen, no number twelve._

"Think about what you read," Dumbledore turned to them. George did, and suddenly the ground was shaking and a building was appearing between number eleven and number thirteen. _Holy shit._

"Let's go," their mum said, following the older wizard with gray hair and crescent moon shaped glasses. The group followed them, up the long walkway to a battered, black-painted door with a silver knocker in the shape of a twisted serpent. George didn't remember how, but soon he was in a large entrance hall with peeling wallpaper and threadbare carpeting.

"…_filthy blood traitors! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness!…"_

"What the hell?"

That was Fred, and the group turned towards the source of the noise.

"Just get upstairs," their mum snapped, throwing herself towards a set of moth-eaten, moldy curtains, which had opened to reveal a loud, screeching woman.

George didn't need to be told twice, and soon he was hoisting his trunk up the stairs. Fred was right on his heels. George was just getting to the first floor landing when a figure emerged in front of them. George froze.

"Hello, George."

"Ah, Sirius!" their mum's voice floated from a ways behind them. After a moment of George's staring, she snapped, "George, move. Please."

Sirius Black moved out of the way, around the banister, and allowed George, Fred, Ron, and Ginny to move past him. "Sirius!" Ron said happily.

"Did I startle you, George?" Sirius' gray eyes twinkled.

"A bit. I thought we were alone…"

"Oh, no. This is my house. I'm overjoyed that you are here! Gets a bit lonely, it being so big and all. Ah, Molly!" He embraced the older witch and turned to talk to her and Dumbledore in hushed tones.

"Damn, could be a good time to try – " but Fred was cut off when the group separated.

"Right. Ginny, your room is this way, you'll be sharing with Hermione when she turns up. Ron, you and Harry are upstairs. He should be here around his birthday. Fred, George, third floor." With that, Molly ushered her youngest down the hallway, past one door, and through another.

"Right-o," Fred said. He pulled out his wand and mumbled a spell, yelping when his trunk popped open and its contents flew into the air. "I-I meant to do that!" he insisted.

George saw Dumbledore and Sirius give each other knowing looks.

"What happened to you?" Molly Weasley shrieked as Fred and George hurried into the basement kitchen. They held identical smiles, their heads tilted back, and fingers pressed against their noses. Blood trickled over the tops of their fingers.

"Have you been dueling?" She yelled again, hurrying the twins to chairs and moving their hands. They shrugged in unison and Molly shook her head scowling, before healing their faces.

George smiled knowingly. No, they had indeed not been dueling. Testing their products for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was a painful job. They had yet to perfect the Nosebleed Nougat for their Skiving Snackboxes.

Their mum hugged them both tightly before shooing them out of the room so she could continue setting up for a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix.

These random displays of affection had been increasing over the summer, what with Percy becoming estranged from the family for being a git, Bill moving home and announcing he was dating Fleur Delacour from the Tri-wizard tournament, oh, and the impending war.

George crept quietly up the stairs to the first floor landing and, along with Fred, watched and waited as familiar and strange looking people arrived through the front door. They almost always rang the doorbell and every time set off the screaming portrait behind the curtains. The magical portrait turned out to be Sirius' mum.

"What are you doing?" a female asked from behind them and they jumped, turning. Hermione Granger, Ron's friend from school, had stepped out of the room she was sharing with Ginny, her arms crossed.

"Shh!" Fred snapped. "Do you want us to get caught?" He pointed down the stairs to where the greasy head of Severus Snape, the Potions professor at Hogwarts, had disappeared through the kitchen door.

"Are you…_spying_?" She asked, incredulously. George nodded and she turned and headed up the stairs.

"Ooh, there's Dung," George pointed out Mundungus Fletcher, "we should ask him about those Venomous Tentacula Seeds…for the Snackboxes…and some more knarl quills…"

"Right-O, twin."

George watched as more members of the Order filed in, one in particular catching his eye. A tall, lanky, man – _who looks to be the exact same height as Ron,_ George mused – strode in, his sandy brown hair cut close to his head. He looked to be in his late 30s. He wore muggle clothes, which is why he stood out to George. A nice suit complete with jacket and a dark blue tie. As if feeling George's gaze, the man looked up and caught George's stare. He had the same eyes as the girl in his dreams. Or at least he'd thought it'd been a girl. George'd never seen much more than her eyes…but she did have blonde hair. Right?

He'd been having the dreams all summer, and he still hadn't see her whole face. Just those deep, midnight blue eyes. Sometimes, he could see the shadow of her lips moving, but he never saw her nose…or mouth…or ears…or any other distinctive characteristic. Other than those eyes.

The eyes that were staring back at him.

He shivered, hoping against hope he hadn't been dreaming about a man all summer. The man disappeared behind the door.

After the flow of people had stopped, Fred deemed it safe to begin. He pulled out a long piece of flesh covered string and lowered it down the staircase. A few precise swings of the string and it landed right in front of the door.

"It's starting!" Fred hissed and held out the end of the string, hearing talking.

"…recap of what's been going on with you, David. How have you been holding up?" the voice was plainly Remus Lupin's, their old Defense professor from fifth year.

"Alright, I s'pose…" another male voice trailed off.

"And the children?" their mother's voice spoke next.

"I haven't spoken with them since Maggie took them after the funeral. I can't bear to look at them…they remind me of _her_…" the unknown male's voice was sad, and he sounded as if he were holding back tears.

"And in the Ministry…?" Sirius asked tentatively after a long pause.

"No sign of anything out of the ordinary since last time…" the sense of closure in his voice told them he was done and then there were footsteps coming towards the door.

Fred barely had time to pull the string back even a little bit before the door burst open and the "eye man" as George had dubbed him, moved quickly out of the room. To the twins' surprise, their mum followed.

"Oh, David. I'm so sorry about Matilda," she whispered, throwing her arms around the sandy-haired man, her eyes filled with tears.

"It's okay, Molly. It was months ago. I suppose I should start to move on…"

"After twenty years of marriage you're allowed to grieve. Take as long as you want…"

"I've already taken a month off from work. And I can't even look at the girls anymore. My own children." The pain in the man's voice nearly brought tears to George's eyes, and that's saying something.

"David…" she pulled back, holding him at arms length.

"I have to go…" he wrenched himself out of their mum's strong grip and hurried down the hall and out the door. Mrs. Black's portrait did not make a peep.

She turned to go back into the room when something caught her eye. "Oh no!" Fred breathed. George realized what was happening and slid flat on the floor of the landing. Fred stood to run.

"Fred! George!" She picked up the flesh colored string and gave it a strong yank. Fred yelped and let it go. "I want all of these…things. Now!"

It was Fred's idea. George would swear by it until the day he died. But the thing with being a twin: it doesn't matter whose fault it is, both get into trouble.

So when Fred decided to bewitch their trunks to fly downstairs to save them from carrying them down, George went along with it. And when they flew into Ginny and knocked her down two flights of stairs, George grumbled, but took the blame along side his twin.

Yes mum, we could have killed our baby sister. We are stupid idiots. We don't deserve to live. We are also going to be late…

George didn't have time to ponder the fact that arriving to King's Cross with a guard, not to mention ex-almost-Defense-Against-the-Dark-Arts-Professor-once-Auror would draw attention to him, for once they arrived at the station, he and Fred left the group to find Lee Jordan, their best friend.

"He's already got a compartment?" George asked, Fred leading the way.

"I think…" he trailed, opening the door to his right. "Sorry," he muttered to a group of sixth year Ravenclaws. They moved on, looking into compartments hoping to catch a glimpse of black hair and dark skin.

"Ah! Angel!" Fred threw open the compartment door on his right just as George looked into the one on his left.

The compartment George looked in on was nearly empty save for one girl sitting in the fair corner, a small book open on her lap, her legs crossed at the knee, her foot wiggling in boots George thought looked familiar. She turned to him, her curly blonde hair swinging, and the first thing George noticed was her eyes.

The deep blue eyes from his dreams.

((00))

1"A Dream is A Wish Your Heart Makes" from Disney's _Cinderella_


	2. On the Line

He was lost. Lost in deep pools of the darkest blue. The pupils of her dark eyes nearly blended in with the dark blue. Against her alabaster skin, her eyes stood out.

He took a moment to take in her other features. Her cheeks were tinted a light pink, her lips shiny, reflecting the light streaming in through the train window. Her hair fell over one shoulder; there were shimmering things dangling from her ears, also shiny from the sunlight. Her top was dark blue, nearly the same color as her eyes, and came down in a low 'v' across her chest, the top of a gray shirt just visible between the gap. There was a brown belt slung around her waist over her tops, and her light denim jeans were tucked into oddly familiar boots.

George knew those boots.

He tried to remember where he'd seen those boots from, but the only thing he could wrap his mind around was that the girl from his dreams, the girl he'd literally dreamed about all damn summer, was sitting right in front of him.

And he was staring at her like a fool.

He dragged his gaze back up to her face and noticed one neatly arched eyebrow had risen, her shiny lips quirked in a smirk. Normally, George Weasley had no problem talking to girls. At this point, he would shoot her a lop-sided grin that the girls usually went gah-gah over, say something clever and charming, and have her eating out of the palm of his hand before the train even left the station.

But he was in uncharted territory now. He fought for words to say but still he stood, sputtering. Trying to put two words together. _'Hel-lo.' How hard is that? 'Hel-lo.' Or hell, 'Hi' would even work._

His brain had finally started working and he'd decided what he was going to say. A simple 'hi' would suffice. He'd even opened his mouth to say it, but someone cleared their throat, loudly, behind him. He turned to find another unfamiliar blonde girl looking back at him. She had lighter eyes, and straight hair, but she was clearly related to the girl he'd been gawking at ten seconds earlier.

"Excuse me," the new girl muttered softly, shifting her eyes to the compartment door he was halfway in and halfway out of.

George nodded and stepped out of the way. The girl walked in and the compartment door closed with a soft, but firm, 'snap.' George let out a long breath and ran a hand through his short red hair, silently cursing his mum for cutting it. He shook his head and stepped across the hall to join his friends.

"Ge-orge!"

George's eyes snapped up and noticed Alicia Spinnet standing in front of him. He grinned, not even realizing he'd been staring off into space.

"What's with you today?" She asked as she sat on the bench opposite him, sandwiching herself between Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell. She crossed her arms over her chest and waited for an answer.

"Just thinking."

The people in the compartment gave a collective snort and then they burst out laughing. George felt indignant and mentioned so. That just made the people surrounding him laugh louder and harder.

After they had taken the time to calm down, Angelina launched into a story about her holiday to Rome, Italy. George tuned her out, staring out the window of the train at the passing scenery. The landscape flew by at dizzying speed and he closed his eyes to fight off a wave of nausea.

He turned back and tried to listen as Angelina talked about some museum she'd been to, her hands waving animatedly, when something caught his eye out the compartment door.

The girl he'd been staring at earlier had just left her compartment. She had a small duffel bag in her hand and seemed to be heading towards the loo. His eyes turned back to the girls on the opposite bench.

"I'm going to go change," he said suddenly.

Angelina stopped talking and everyone turned to him. Instead of saying anything, he grabbed his own bag and forced his way over his friends and twin and headed out into the hall. He made his way to the boys' loo slowly, hoping to catch a glimpse of her leaving. When he didn't see her, he changed quickly and then walked back to the compartment slowly.

Reaching his compartment, he turned to look at the one opposite his and found it empty. He sighed and opened the door to his, finding only his brother and Lee, already in their uniforms. Fred's scarlet and gold tie was tied, but left loosely hanging around his neck and Lee's was untied.

"We've got a bunch of orders to fill, bro," Fred mentioned, holding out a stack of parchment. It was their order forms for their owl-order business. "Let's get a jump on it now so we don't have as much to do tonight."

The rest of the ride to Hogwarts was spent separating their merchandise into boxes and sealing them up. They would take them to the owlery later that night after the Welcoming Feast.

The train began to slow and they packed up their stuff. He caught the looks of apprehension on faces of small students as he made his way off the train behind Fred. "I say this every year, and this year will be the last. We were _never_ that small, were we?" Lee pushed at his shoulder impatiently.

He waited for his friends to all get off the train and then they found a carriage. The friends continued to catch up, each one telling stories of their Summer Holidays, during their carriage ride to Hogwarts. He shuddered at a particularly gruesome story about a sheep and a levitation spell from Katie (which had happened on a trip to Ireland, and "was entirely my sister's fault.")

George heaved himself out of the carriage and followed his twin and his girlfriend up the steps and into the castle, taking a right and heading straight into the Great Hall. The decorations were the same as every year: each house (Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor) flag was suspended in the air above a designated table, and thousands of candles, high above their heads, lit the entire room. The ceiling above them enchanted to look exactly like the night sky, was dark with swirling gray clouds punctuated by the light of a full moon.

The group of six made their way across the Great Hall to the Gryffindor table and sat down near the middle of the long table. George noted his brother, Ron, and Hermione and Harry were sitting just three people down.

Fred sat next to him, pulling Angelina onto the bench next to him, and Katie, Alicia, and Lee sat across from them. Fred leaned over and they began discussing ideas for a hat that makes your head disappear.

They were still lost in discussion when the first years were ushered in and didn't notice the spattering of whispering. The sorting hat sang a new song, about unity between houses, but the song was lost to them.

The hat started spouting off names. He briefly heard "Abercrombie, Anna" become a Hufflepuff before he was lost in conversation again. "Just need to figure out the charms used on an invisibility cloak. Recon it'll be in a textbook or will we need to spend some time in the library?" Fred spoke in a hushed whisper, leaning close to George.

"Reckon we should check both. School books, first, though. We can do that tonight…"

A motion caught George's eye and instead of his eyes moving up to the center of the Great Hall where the sorting was taking place, he turned his head to Angelina, who had stood and was waving her arms in the air wildly. Fred had noticed, too, and looked at his girlfriend strangely. Other people at the table were looking at her like she'd lost her mind. Then Alicia stood and began waving as well. George turned to where Angelina was looking and saw the girl from the train walking timidly towards their table.

She moved to the opposite side and then, to his surprise (or not since Angelina had waved her over so…enthusiastically), sat directly across from him where Lee had moved down to make space between him and Alicia. George gulped loudly. Angelina had sat down now, and they were all watching the rest of the sorting. He kept his eyes on the girl in front of him, and she smiled.

"Alicia Spinnet," she reached out her hand to the new girl and shook it just as the food arrived in front of them and people began digging in.

"Lee Jordan."

They went around their group introducing themselves, and finally it came to George. "George Weasley," he near whispered and then caught himself. He rolled his eyes at himself, cleared his throat, and repeated it louder.

"Elsa," she nodded to all of them. "Elsa Poe."

"She's going to be so pissed…" Elsa said, looking over her shoulder. George briefly wondered what she was talking about, but he didn't have to wonder long, because Katie asked.

"Who is?"

"My sister. She was sorted into Ravenclaw. She really wanted us to be together," she shrugged and then put another heaping bite of roast on her fork and stuffed it in her mouth.

George grinned. It was her second plateful.

_This girl can eat!_

"I'm actually pretty surprised I was sorted into Gryffindor. There's really not a brave bone in my body. I was thinking I'm more of a Hufflepuff…" she muttered after swallowing.

"Well, the hat is never wrong…"

"So you have a sister? Is she your twin? The resemblance between you is uncanny…" That was Lee and he had placed his hand on her arm. George scowled.

Good, at least she has the grace to look uncomfortable. I'll have to have a talk with Lee later…

"Er, kind of."

_Kind of? How can you kind of have a twin?_

"What I mean is," she started, noticing the confused looks, "we're really a lot alike, but I'm two years older. We jokingly refer to ourselves as the only set of twins born two years apart. I guess, not anymore right?"

"So, you're a seventh year?" She nodded, dragging her fork once more over the plate to finish off the gravy that was left, before dropping the fork back on the plate.

"Yes. She's in sixth year, though."

"How did that happen?" Angelina crossed her arms on the table in front of her and leaned on them, staring at her.

"It's complicated…has to do a lot with the fact that we were home schooled by our mum and she wanted to keep us close academically…"

"Give the girl some room to breathe, Angel, she's already sharing your dorm. You guys can stay up all night gossiping," Fred suggested, kissing her sloppily on the cheek. George groaned.

"Unlike you, I need to get my beauty sleep."

"That's right. I'm beautiful how I am." He waggled his eyebrows at her and threw his arm over her shoulder. She leaned into his embrace.

"Nope. You're just hopeless."

He sat back, clutching his hands to his chest above his heart. "Angel…my life…my love…that hurt!"

She merely giggled at him and kissed his cheek. George blanched. Public displays of affection were only okay (in his book) if they were happening to him.

Dessert was served and the noise level in the great hall dropped again. George had two servings of Treacle Tart, smiling into his plate when Elsa took seconds as well. _What? She's sitting right across from me, it's not like I can help looking at her…_

Everyone turned as Dumbledore climbed to his feet. He gave his usual speech about the forest on the grounds being forbidden to all students, and reminded everyone (for the four hundred and sixty-second time, according to Filch) that there was to be no magic in the corridors and an extensive list of other rules could be found on Filch's office door.

George deftly listened as he announce Professor Grubbly-Plank as the stand-in Care of Magical Creatures Professor, and instead moved his eyes a bit further down the table. A mousy-brown haired witch wearing entirely too much pink sat a few spaces down from Dumbledore, a smug smirk on her face. He introduced her as "Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

George chuckled when she interrupted Dumbledore with a loud clearing of her throat, and then she stood, preparing to make a speech.

"She just doesn't understand how it's done here," he heard muttered from a few spaces down, but his eyes stayed locked on the woman, a feeling of imparting doom settling on his shoulders.

"Ooh, I love her cardigan," Alicia muttered sarcastically from across the table, causing a few Gryffindors to snicker. "I wonder if she'll let me barrow it."

"You'd probably drown in it," Katie whispered to her, causing more giggles.

She droned on about the Ministry of Magic and the types of magic deemed suitable to learn, and George rolled his eyes, his elbow coming up to rest on the table, his cheek on his outstretched palm. He tuned her out, gazing up at the candles above him.

As they stood to leave, he caught the gist of what this Umbridge had said from Hermione. "It means," she snapped, unaware she was being overheard. "That the Ministry's interfering at Hogwarts."

Lee, Katie, and Alicia were walking in front, and Fred and Angelina were right behind them. George fell into step beside Elsa as they began to climb their way to the seventh floor.

"What's with all the bloody stairs?" he heard her mutter under her breath. He snorted, and she shot him a look. "What?"

"Nothing," he answered, still smirking. "Just be careful. They like to change on you."

"Change? As in, move?"

"Yep. And there's one particular on, with a vanishing step that you have to jump. If you don't, you fall in and it's particularly hard to get out."

"And you've experienced this?"

"Ha ha. No. But Alicia was coming up from dinner alone one night and forgot to jump it and waited for an hour for someone to help her out. She swore she felt something sniffing at her foot."

"Oh," she smiled sheepishly and giggled.

They climbed on in silence, and when they reached the seventh floor, the group was nearly out of breath. "A bit out of shape, are we Weasley?" Angelina turned to George, who shrugged. "Am I going to have to call extra practices just to whip your ass back into manageable fitness?" He shrugged again and they made their way to the portrait of the fat lady. It was already open and students were climbing into it.

"How did the first years beat us? Don't they usually have a tour or something?" Fred asked, following in the last first year.

As George entered, he saw Ron and Hermione in the center of the pack of kids. Ron looked bored, and yawned, as Hermione motioned to the staircases and around the common room, talking loudly.

"Do you reckon we should do it now?" Fred was suddenly right behind him and he jumped. "Jumpy?"

"Shut it. The sooner the better, I say," he answered Fred's question, and Fred pulled out a piece of parchment, pinning it above a poster announcing the date of the first Hogsmeade weekend.

"Reckon you'll have a date?" Fred nudged George, who looked at him questioningly. He lifted the parchment he'd just posted and let George read over the notice. He shrugged.

"I don't see why not." He eyed the group of girls that had clambered in through the portrait hole behind them.

"You should take Elsa…show her around Hogsmeade…take her to Madame Puddifoots…"

"Oi, I thought we were supposed to take the mickey out of other people, not each other!"

"Right."

"Come on. We should show you the dorm!" Alicia suggested, taking Elsa by the hand and tugging on her arm. She followed the three girls to the staircase and disappeared up it.

George rolled his eyes, but he followed Fred and Lee up the stairs to their own dorm. Fred grabbed a large orange box out of his trunk and motioned for George and Lee to follow him. They headed down the stairs and into the common room. It was nearly deserted, save for Ron, Hermione, Harry, and a few groups of student scattered throughout.

As they headed out of the common room, George swore he heard, "Better be back before curfew," and something about being taken seriously from where the infamous trio were sitting. He frowned, hoping Hermione wouldn't be a problem this year.

They walked quietly through the castle. It wasn't past curfew, but they were cutting it close. They rushed through the castle to the West Tower and entered the owlery. Fred set the big box down on the owl-dropping strewn floor, and George stepped towards it, something crunching beneath his feet.

He looked down and lifted his foot, watching tiny pieces of bone fall from the bottom of his shoe and land soundlessly on the floor. "Gross," Lee muttered.

"Need some mouse bones, Freddie?"

"Eh," he shrugged. He tore open the box and inside lay about twenty brightly colored smaller boxes. "We might want to do this slowly. We don't want a bunch of owls flying out of here all at once…"

It took nearly half an hour to get all of the packages sent out. It was well after curfew by the time they made their way out of the owlery, past the Ravenclaw common room, and down towards Gryffindor tower.

They managed to slip past a group of Hufflepuff prefects that were patrolling the corridor on the sixth floor, and finally were standing in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, waiting to get into the common room.

"I can't believe we don't…"

"You recognize us you old bat!" Fred kicked impatiently at the stone wall, grimacing when he stubbed his toe.

"I can't let you in without the password. What if you'd Polyjuiced yourself…"

"So we get to wait here for an hour?"

"I'm sure Professor McGonagall would tell us…" Lee stopped when the twins gave him a look that said they didn't want to get into trouble.

He was not scared of McGonagall. But, as he reminded Fred multiple times this summer, they had better things to do than sit in detention. Well, unless it was earned. But for being in the owlery? It would be a new record, however. _Mum would have my hide if I get detention before classes even start._

"Hello," a voice sounded from behind the friends, and they turned sharply, startled.

"Oh great," Fred muttered, watching as Neville Longbottom approached them. He was rubbish at remembering the password, and another member was added to their 'waiting group'.

"Do you know the password?" Lee asked hopefully.

"I actually do!" Neville sounded excited, but the other boys gave a look that clearly said they didn't believe him. "No, really, it's easy for me to remember this time…finally!"

"Well, go on!" George insisted. "Before she has a fit!"

"_Mimbulus Mimbletonia_," he said proudly. The fat lady gave him a reproachful look and reluctantly swung open.

"Thanks, Neville." Fred clapped him on the back before moving into the common room. George scooted in after him and they parted ways. He briefly wondered what Neville had been doing out of the tower, but shrugged it off, as it didn't really matter.

"This is going to be a…profitable year," Fred muttered as he pulled on his pajamas.

George smirked to himself. He sure hoped so.


	3. Charmed

A/N: I'm really proud of this chapter. Mostly because it's kind of long and it didn't take too long to write. The last scene was actually written separately because I had all these different thoughts of scenes I wanted to write and I just wrote them as they came to me, so if it seems a bit out of place, that's why. I tried to work it as best I could.

He hated waking up on the first day of school. Not that he got to sleep in during the summer, but he was rarely up this early. George tapped his watch his mum and dad had given him for his seventeenth birthday. Could that be right?

"Hurry up, Fred. I'm hungry!"

He jumped off his bed and grabbed his bag, rummaging around. He didn't particularly care if he had everything he needed, for it was the first day of classes and they couldn't be doing that much.

"Keep your knickers on, I'm coming," Fred yelled, marching out of the bathroom and straightening his robes. "Do I look smart?"

"Brilliant," George said dryly, scratching his chest. He ran his hand through his hair before he stretched and yawned, loudly.

They left the dormitory and met Lee in the common room. He swore under his breath. "They not ready, yet?" His eyes moved towards the girls' staircase.

"Haven't seen them. Doubt they're at breakfast already."

"Girls take so bloody long on the first day of school, you'd think they were meeting the Queen!" The edges of Fred's lips twitched.

"Let's just go, we'll meet them there." George grumbled, rubbing his stomach as it growled. They pushed open the portrait hole to find Elsa pacing. She was not in her uniform. Her hair clung to her forehead, and she looked to be wearing workout clothes. Tight workout clothes. That clung to her, her top barely meeting the bottoms.

"Thank merlin!" she cried, rushing past them.

"Must not've gotten the password, either," Lee smirked. George laughed with his brother and they headed towards the Great Hall.

The girls were not there when they arrived, and they took their usual seats near the middle. George helped himself to some kippers and toast.

"Don't suppose we could skive off lessons, today. I'm feeling a bit brilliant right now and want to put that to good use," Fred told them, crunching in to a piece of toast, loudly.

"Doubt it on the first day, bro." George mimicked his action, following it up with a large gulp of Pumpkin juice.

Hermione entered the Hall with a livid look on her face, Ron and Harry behind her. She marched up to the table and sat next to George, the boys sitting next to her. She sputtered for a moment, her arms crossed over her chest as her school bag fell to the floor. Then, she reached out and grabbed a piece of toast.

"You can't advertise in the common room," she said, finally, after her toast was finished. She poured herself a glass of juice waiting for their reaction.

George snorted.

"And just who is going to stop us?" Fred asked, smirking, as he leaned forward at her.

"Me. I'm a prefect. And Ron, too."

"Leave me outta this."

"Oh, Granger, don't be so stuck up. It's just a bit of fun. They're volunteering, and they're getting paid," Lee insisted. Hermione turned to look sharply at him.

"These two twits are targeting younger students who don't know any better," she turned her gaze to George. "If I see any first years puking their guts out, or with horrid nose bleeds that end like that," she snapped her fingers, "I'm reporting you to McGonagall." With that she moved down the table to the other side of Harry.

"I'm beginning to think you were right all those years ago, Ron. She's mental, that one," Lee muttered, averting his eyes when Hermione looked at him sharply.

"Shows how much she knows," George leaned over to Fred and Lee, his eyes casting down the table at her. "The Nosebleed Nougats don't even have an antidote, yet."

The three boys snickered.

They sat in silence a few more minutes before the girls turned up. Alicia, Angelina, and Katie were all in full uniform, their school bags slung over their shoulders. Elsa looked a bit frazzled, her school bag over her shoulder and her robes draped through the hole it made. She carried a pair of black shoes and grey socks, her bare feet slapping against the wood floor.

She threw her stuff down and sat on the bench near George. She leaned over and picked up a sock, resting her foot on the bench close to George's thigh, and leaned over, putting her toes and then foot through, pulling the sock up her calf. A piece of her curly wet-from-a-recent-shower hair fell into her face, and she brushed it away impatiently. She repeated the process with her other foot and calf, and then pulled on her black Mary Jane's, lacing them tightly. She threw her leg over the bench and then she was sitting right, facing her plate. She let out a loud breath.

"Better?" Angelina asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Much," she said as she grabbed the goblet of juice Angelina had poured her and gulped it down quickly. George noticed black bracelets littering her wrist, one crossed and surrounded her middle finger of her right hand.

"Couldn't even wait for the poor girl to put her shoes on?" George asked, waggling his eyebrows in the girls' direction.

"We tried…" Alicia muttered, frowning into her toast.

"I didn't want to make anyone else late. It's my own fault for not knowing the damn password," Elsa muttered, shrugging.

"Ah!" Fred shouted as Professor McGonagall made her way down the table and passed out schedules. George quickly read over his and groaned. It wasn't too bad, he supposed.

"Herbology first thing…double…" Fred muttered, shaking his head. Professor Sprout had made the twins' lives hell since they'd made it into NEWT level work, but they had proven themselves.

"And then double Charms. My two favorite subjects! All before lunch." George laughed. Then his schedule was being ripped from his hands and he turned. Elsa had taken it and was comparing the two.

"How come I have more classes than you? You only have Care of Magical Creatures in the afternoon and then you're done!"

"Shouldn't have signed up for so many, then," he told her, a smirk on his face, as he took his schedule back.

"At least we don't have Potions until Wednesday after lunch," Angelina smiled at her over her cereal.

"That reminds me, I have an appointment with Professor Snape tomorrow morning during breakfast," Elsa announced as they moved to get off the bench and head out to the greenhouses.

"Whatever for?" George asked, mockingly shocked. She rolled her eyes at him.

"Doesn't trust my test scores; says that I need to prove that I'm capable of the rigorous coursework. So I'll probably have to brew him a potion of some sort."

"Gah," Fred shivered. "I'm glad we were rid of that greasy git fifth year."

"Yeah, I can't imagine having him in classes again. He got in the way of our creative genius," George added.

They, save Katie, who had to run off to Defense first thing, entered Greenhouse two with a group of Hufflepuff seventh years. George noticed Callum Jarvey, the other boy he, Fred, and Lee shared a dorm with. He nodded a hello and grabbed a stool around a long table. Alicia sat next to him, Fred on his other side. Angelina sat next to him, and Lee and Elsa sat next to each other.

"Good morning seventh years! Welcome to NEWT level Herbology," a stout woman with short gray hair and a patched hat walked in and to the front of the class.

"This is going to be an exciting year! Let's get started," she moved to the black board, took out her wand and began writing notes. George noticed fellow students moving to their bags and pulling out parchment and quills to take notes on. George leaned his elbow on the table and rested his head.

"Oh no, none of that. We will be leaving in a moment, there's just a few things you need to know first," Professor Sprout insisted, and turned back around to continue writing out notes on the board.

A few minutes later she was finished and turned around. "Today we'll be working with Sneezewort. I'm assuming you've all worked with it during potions your fifth year, so we don't need to go into the properties of it…" she kept talking, but George looked down at the note shoved onto the table in front of him. It was Alicia's neat script, and George was surprised because she was usually so attentive in lessons.

_Remember fifth year?_

Of course he remembered fifth year! Duh, it was only two years ago. _Oh_, realization dawned on him and he eyed the workbench near the back corner of the room. There were no windows back there, and hardly anything was visible in the space. Yes, he definitely remembered.

_Yes._

He shoved the parchment back at her and turned his attention back to Sprout, who was pointing out different parts of a plant with her wand. He tried not to concentrate on the hand that had just rested on his knee. That is definitely not Fred. The hand started moving upwards, and he grabbed it, holding it still.

His head turned from the blackboard to Alicia, her eyebrows raised. He shook his head and let go of her hand. She put it back in her lap and turned back to Sprout.

They moved outside ten minutes later and found a large garden of plants with white flowers on the tops, and fern-like leaves down to the fertilized soil. The class worked the rest of the time in relative silence, and by the time the class was over, had picked nearly all of the leaves off of the Sneezewort shrubs.

"A foot on the properties of Sneezewort plant due next lesson," Sprout said as students traipsed their way back into the greenhouse to collect their things.

George grabbed his bag and hurried after his classmates back to the castle. "That was a tad unproductive," Fred muttered, throwing his arm over Angelina's shoulder.

"Is that class always so…dreadful?" Elsa asked, hoisting her bag higher on her shoulder.

"Usually," Alicia smiled at her, shooting George a look. George looked away, towards the castle. "Ugh, I need to get back on a broom quick."

"No doubt," Angelina agreed as they reached the main doors. "I got captain, by the way." She was met with a chorus of 'wow's and 'that's great's; she was beaming.

"Why didn't you tell us sooner, love?" Fred asked after he'd swept her in for a long kiss in the middle of the crowded corridor. They made their way up to the third floor and reached the classroom just before the bell.

"Didn't have time," Angelina muttered as they entered. "McGonagall's just told me this morning." She pulled Fred onto a seat next to her near the back. George, trying not to make it seem like he was deliberately avoiding Alicia, though he was, pushed Lee to the table next to them. Alicia and Elsa sat in front of them.

"Good morning class," George heard a snicker in front of him and Elsa lowered her head to the table, her shoulders shaking. Professor Flitwick shot a nasty look their direction, but went on.

"This year is going to be exciting!" He clapped his hands together. "We're going to start this term with the Imperturbable." He gestured to a few people with books out and the class gave a collective sigh.

They spent the next hour and a half reading from the textbook. Well, most read. George slept, and he was pretty sure Fred was napping as well. As the bell rang and they rose to leave, Elsa turned to them. She threw _The Standard Book of Spells: Grade Seven_, into her bag and looked up.

"Honestly, that could've been homework…" She shook her head.

"He was just warming us up," Alicia assured her. "All the first day of school excitement and all. I'm surprised we only got two feet on this."

"Yes, due Thursday…" Angelina sighed. They moved out into the corridor and down to the Great Hall for lunch.

"What was with you?" George asked Elsa as they sat down. George sat between Elsa and Alicia and gulped.

"What?" She turned, wide eyed and innocent. Clearly an act.

"That little giggle fit at the beginning. Flitwick looked like he was going to go off his rocker, and that usually only happens when George and I do something," Fred mentioned, pulling two sandwiches onto the plate in front of him.

"He's…well, he stands on books!" She sputtered, laughing. "He's like, anciently old, and any one of us could drop-kick him across the room."

The group laughed. "Yes, well, it's not very nice to laugh," Alicia said, but laughed with the rest of them.

George was entering the common room after dinner that night when he saw Angelina putting up something on the announcement board. He walked over, grinning when he saw their sign was still up for volunteers. He and Fred had a whole group of first years lined up to start testing products two days a week starting Wednesday night.

"What's that?" He leaned closer, over her shoulder, and smiled. "Brilliant, tryouts Friday! I'm dying to get back on my broom!"

"George, you can just go outside any time you want…"

"Nah, want to make it a special occasion…"

"Sure…"

"Ange, can I ask you a question?" They moved over to an empty couch and dropped down onto it.

"You just did," she teased. Then noticed he was serious, and nodded, her eyebrows creasing together, confused. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine. Just…are you in love with my brother?" His eyes would not meet hers, and they were both blushing crimson.

"Ron? Nah? Too tall!" She teased, sitting back and pulling her leg up. She'd changed into jeans before dinner, her feet in muggle strappy sandals she called 'flip flops.'

"Fred," he said simply.

"I love Fred…very much so," she nodded, drumming her thumbs on her thigh. "Why?"

"Just, you know…he loves you too."

George had noticed that Fred's infatuation with the tall black girl since third year was a lot more than that. He felt a tad left out. He'd never been in love; didn't even know what it felt like. The closest he'd come was Alicia fifth year, and then a few casual encounters in his sixth. Nothing serious. He felt a twinge in his chest. _Jealous?_

"You'll find it, someday, Georgie!" she reached up and pinched his cheek. He groaned, shooing her hand away.

"Why would I want to be all love-sick, puppy-dogged-eyed – "

"We aren't that bad!" She cried, sitting straight up, her foot slamming on the floor a bit harder than she'd intended.

"You're always kissing and touching and making googly eyes…"

"He's whipped."

Lee entered into the conversation, dragging Alicia behind him. They sat on the couch adjacent; Alicia moved to lay back, putting her feet onto Lee's lap.

"Nu uh!" Angelina huffed, crossing her arms in front of her.

"Oh, yeah," Alicia agreed with the boys. "You have him eating out of the palm of your hands. He's even carrying around his books now!"

"But he's not reading them…"

"Only a matter of time, mate." Alicia pulled out her Potions book out of her bag and opened it. Geeze, she hadn't even had the class yet…

"Don't you want that, though?" Lee turned to George. "I mean, it's every guys' dream…" he said sarcastically.

"What, being whipped?" George said. "Falling all over yourself to make a girl happy, making an arse of yourself and doing corny, romantic crap for her just because?" He put his finger to his chin and looked up, as if deep in thought, and then looked back down at them.

"No thank you."

George sat in a squishy maroon chair in the Gryffindor common room, his feet propped up on the coffee table in front of him and his Charms book open on his lap. It would appear to any other Gryffindor who didn't know the redhead that he was merely enjoying a peaceful Tuesday night studying.

But George Weasley does not study.

The twin Weasleys were notorious pranksters and spent their time doing more productive things, especially this year now that their Weasley Wizard Wheezes mail-order business had picked up. Things such as product placement, or inventing new tricks. Or, as Fred was currently doing, sitting by the fireplace with a group of four first year boys around him: product testing. He had given the eleven year olds brightly colored toffees and was writing down their affects at the moment. One had turned a blond boy's hair green. Another had made a small black boy's face break out in blisters, a cream-like pus exploding from each of them after a short period of time.

But George wasn't even paying attention to this. No, his attention was on a certain blond haired, blue eyed beauty ten feet to the right of him. He'd feigned interest in imperturbable charms when Fred'd asked him for help, and Fred did not question it. Besides, George had been picking up the slack lately while Fred pursued…other interests.

Namely, Angelina Johnson.

So now it was George's turn. And the focus of his attention at the moment was none other than Elsa Poe. She was sitting in another of the squishy maroon chairs, closer to the fire. George could just see her out of the corner of his eye.

He didn't want to be caught looking at her.

She was curled up, her feet tucked up under her. She had – what looked to be – a Potions text book resting against her jean-clad legs. She had a piece of parchment resting on one side of the pages of the open book, a quill clinched between her teeth.

George stared.

She looked thoughtful for a moment, her eyes scrunching in concentration as she comprehended what was on the page she was reading. Then she dipped her quill in ink – the jar resting on the arm of the chair – and began scratching her words onto the parchment.

George was not one to notice detail. Seriously, ask him what color his mothers eyes were: not a clue. For some reason, though, he was noticing every detail of this picture in front of him. This girl.

And this girl…every time she moved, her top would stretch a little tighter over her chest. She leaned over her parchment and book and George could see the swell of her breast, the line of her cleavage.

_That's what it is,_ George thought. _I'm not noticing details, I'm just a randy bugger. Any other girl, get any other girl sitting right in front of me, wearing that…it'd be the same. Hermione Granger even…well, maybe not. But definitely any other girl, mind she's decent looking enou– _

But his thought was cut short by a loud announcement of "shit" and he turned, not realizing he'd taken his eyes off of her, to the object of his attention.

Elsa had knocked her jar of ink off of the arm of chair and it was now pooling on the carpet of the common room. She sat up immediately, her book and parchment falling to the floor with a loud 'thud.' She bent over the arm of the chair, straining to reach the jar. She shook her head, tossed her curly blonde hair over her left shoulder, and reached a bit further.

Her shirt, which seemed to be made of a stretchy material that clung to her curves, had ridden up significantly. She sat up on the chair, the jar, which had to have been empty by then, clutched in her hands. "Bugger," she muttered, leaning forward and slamming the jar onto the coffee table. She stood up, and then went into a deep crouch to gather her book and parchment.

And then he saw it. Quite a bit of the creamy flesh of her lower back was showing. Her jeans, already low on her hips, had ridden lower as she crouched. He didn't get perfect view, but he got the general idea.

A tattoo – three single stars, the one in the center about twice the size of the ones flanking it – placed strategically on the small of her lower back. It gleamed in the bright lights; the black ink seemed to sparkle.

His view was short lived, as she stood up as soon as she'd gathered her books, and taken her wand out of her pocket. She muttered a charm to clean up the spilled ink, and then looked dejectedly at the empty ink jar.

An idea came to the prankster and he leaned over the arm of the chair, digging in his school bag for a self-inking quill, a new product. He had just pulled one out when a familiar voice rang out from behind him.

"Elsa, your sister is outside. She said you two were supposed to meet."

The voice was Angelina Johnson's. George could not have despised his teammate more than he did at this moment. That included his and Fred's "prank time" being interrupted by her and Fred's "shag time," and that's saying something seeing as Fred had been doing a lot more shagging than pranking since they'd started their seventh year. _Okay, so maybe there's a hint of jealousy at the fact that my twin brother has not spent a night alone in the dormitory the past two nights, and if tonight counts, then three._

"Oh, thanks."

George watched her pack her things and take her school bag with her as she left the common room. Only when he heard a voice behind him mutter, "Nice tattoo," as she passed did he realize he wasn't the only spectator.

After he had repositioned himself more comfortably, Angelina sitting in the chair next to him, the common room was bearably quiet again. He didn't read, though. Instead, he sat quietly and listened to the group of fourth year boys – from which the tattoo comment had come from – talking.

"…mum told me she'd hex me six ways to Hates if I ever got a tattoo," one boy said.

"They're not that big of a deal," another said. "But…well, it's common for girls to get them there…you know, lower back. My sister tried to get one…I wasn't allowed in the room while they rowed, but I do remember my dad yelling the words 'tramp stamp'."

"That's what muggles call it when you get them there. Girls do it to draw attention to…you know."

George scowled. Granted he had only (_officially_) met Elsa two days ago at the welcoming feast, but she did not give off the 'tramp vibe'. _And trust me, there's plenty of girls around here who do give off that vibe._

No, there was something that drew George to Elsa. It may have been her startling beauty, or her interesting background that made him want to get to know her better. But George made a vow to himself right then and there.

He would be getting up close and personal with Elsa Poe's tattoo.


	4. Exaggeration

George stood, mouth open slightly. He stared at the brown paper bag and clipboards that Hermione had just shoved into his and Fred's hands. His eye had widened; his face had paled. _She did not just…no!_

"I thought we were making progress with that one." Fred had an identical expression on his face. He sat back down on the couch, the first years that had been surrounding them had long since scampered off.

"She threatened to tell your _mum_," Lee stressed, his face contorted in a look of horror.

"What's the big deal?" Elsa sat in a chair one of the first years had been in. "She's just your mum."

"Mum threw out a whole supply of our Extendable Ears this summer…only managed to salvage a dozen or so," said Fred, setting the bag on his lap.

"Doesn't approve of the joke shop."

"Thinks we should get a desk job at the Ministry."

"Instead of being the natural-born businessmen that we are." George finished, straightening his jumper with a dignified expression.

"And what was that? That you were doing with those little kids?" She pointed her quill towards the group of first years that had fled across the common room before it was back between her teeth.

"Fainting Fancies!" Lee piped in.

"And those are…?"

"Eat the orange side, and you faint." George offered.

"The purple side revives you." Fred continued.

"They're for our Skiving Snackboxes."

"Along with Nosebleed Nougat,"

"and Puking Pastilles."

"We also have fake wands. Rubber chicken is the most popular."

"And of course Ton-Tongue Toffees,"

"And Canary Creams."

"And the Extendable Ears."

"Would you like to place an order?" Fred finished. George took a sheet of parchment from the clipboard and handed it to Elsa over the table. Elsa took it and read over the order form.

"Maybe later," she muttered, going back to her book. George watched as Ron stood from across the room where he was sitting with Harry doing homework.

"You'd better keep your girlfriend in line!" Fred shouted across the semi-full common room. Even in the dim light and from all the way across the room George could see his brother's ears go red and his face flush. Ron, however, ignored the comment and went up the stairs to his dormitory.

"Hey," Angelina joined the group. She kissed Fred's cheek and sat in an empty chair next to him. "Did you boys finish your essay for Sprout?"

"Do we ever?" Fred muttered, leaning over and taking Angelina's hand in his, kissing it. She jerked it out of his grasp and gave him a look.

"Maybe you should start," she said sternly.

"It may get some creative juices flowing," said Elsa, who had raised her head from her book. George turned to her.

"And just how is writing about the properties of Sneezewort going to help us?" He felt affronted when she rolled her eyes.

"If you'd read about them, you'd know," she said, thrusting her copy of _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ at him. He took it, reluctantly. "Page 394."

George thumbed through the pages of the book and opened it to the page she'd suggested. He put the book on the table so he and Fred could both lean over it.

"Reckon Sprout would take one essay from the both of us?" Fred looked at his twin and asked.

"She'd be so surprised to see it she just might," said Angelina. Her nose was in a book as well, and she was jotting words down on a piece of parchment.

"What are you doing, Angel?" Fred batted his eyelashes at her.

"Potions. Fucking Snape is such a hard arse. He assigned three bloody feet due Friday."

George's eyes skimmed the paper, and then he nudged Fred in the ribs. He pointed out a line from the book and watched as Fred's expression changed.

"Sneezewort is most efficacious in the inflaming of the brain, and [is therefore much used in Confusing and Befuddlement Draughts, where the wizard is desirous of producing hot-headedness and recklessness"

George grinned. The line below it mentioned that the powdered leaves of the Sneezewort plant are said to cause sneezing. He made a mental note to knick a few of the leaves during the next Herbology lesson.

"Does anyone know who Callum Jarvey is?" Elsa's voice penetrated his thoughts and he looked up at her. Her quill was between her teeth again.

"What do you need him for?" Lee asked. He looked up from his own Herbology book. Unlike the twins, Lee had an unmistakable need to please his parents and, though he liked to prank just as much as the twins, he at least did his homework.

"Yeah, he's perfect prefect Jarvey. Seventh year prefect," Alicia said as she joined the group, a touch out of breath. "Why?"

"He's my Potions tutor," Elsa said and pulled her Potions book out of her school bag.

"Why do you need him?" George asked. "You've got Angelina and Alicia to help you."

"Apparently, my test scores lie and I'm not 'quite up to speed' according to him so he's asked this Jarvey to tutor me first term to 'catch me up.'"

"He's so…pompous," Angelina shook her head.

"He's a git. Good luck with that," Fred scratched more words on to the parchment.

In the end, the twins only had six inches each – "Hey, together it's a foot!" – and they bid them ado. Lee followed as they headed up the boys' staircase.

George was halfway up the stairs when a hand on his arm stopped him. He turned, and saw Elsa standing two steps below him, her red fingernail-ed hand clutching his lower arm. He moved three steps down so he was eye level with her.

"Yes?" He leaned forward a bit, smirking.

"Callum's not really that bad…is he? They were just exaggerating, right?" George sighed. She bit her lip nervously.

"You want the truth?" She nodded. He paused for a moment, his finger to his chin and his eyes moving upwards in mock thought. "He's the smartest kid in our year," he said finally. "And he knows it."

She groaned. "It's going to be terrible. I thought about dropping the class. I don't really need it." She turned and plopped herself on the step she'd been standing on. He sat next to her.

"So why don't you?"

"You have to get parental permission," she answered. His eyebrows rose, questioningly. "My dad wouldn't go for that. 'Poe's never quit!' he would say. That, and he still thinks I'm going to become an Auror. Ha!"

"Well he must have some reason to think that. There's loads of things you could do, why does he assume you'd be an Auror?"

"He's an Auror. You know when you're little, and you want to be just like your parents? My mum was a housewife. I can't see myself doing that. My dad's an Auror. I used to go around saying 'I'm going to be an Auror just like my daddy. I'm gonna save the world!'" her voice went high, like a child's squeal, "but that was just a phase. That's his dream, not mine." Her nose scrunched briefly and she turned to George.

"So what is your mum now?"

"What?"

"You said your mum _was_ a housewife and your dad _is_ an Auror. Different tenses."

"Catch that, did you?"

"I'm not as thick as I look." George smirked. "So?"

"My mum died about six months ago," said Elsa softly, casting her eyes downwards. George's smile disappeared.

"Oh, shit. I'm sorry." He slid his arm over her shoulder and pulled her close to his chest when he saw her eyes fill with tears. He half expected her to push him away, but she didn't.

"It's okay. It's okay." But still she wiped at her eyes quickly. "I really don't even know why I'm crying…it was a while ago…"

"You're not supposed to get over that kind of stuff quickly. It's supposed to hurt…it just shows you loved her."

"She was my best friend." She nodded her head. She turned and met George's eyes. "It was me, my sister, and her. The three musketeers. We spent all day every day together…"

"What about school?"

"She taught us from home."

"See, no wonder you're still upset about it. You lost your mum, your teacher, and your best friend all in one day. It's okay to cry."

They sat in silence in the middle of the narrow stairwell for a few moments, Elsa's head rested against George's shoulder. She looked up and smiled at him.

Just then, a door opened and there were footsteps on the stairs. "What's taking you so bloody – " Fred stopped when he saw the two sitting there. "Sorry," he said, but his smirk told then he wasn't. He turned and headed up the stairs again.

George turned to Elsa and smiled sheepishly. She giggled, and his heart soared. He had helped her. _Mini-wave in celebration of me!_

"I should get up there before he comes back. And he will come back." George removed his arm from her shoulder and clasped his hands together in front of him.

"Yeah," she agreed, bumping her shoulder with his. He laughed and stood, holding out a hand to help her up. She took it, and he lifted her, effortlessly, to her feet.

"Well, goodnight," he muttered, but didn't move. She smiled.

"Goodnight. And, really, thanks for that." She pressed her hands against his chest and rose onto her toes, kissing him lightly on the cheek. She caught her lip between her teeth, and George had an urge to tug it out with his teeth.

Before he could, though, she turned and ran down the stairs. George smirked after her, before heading up to his own dorm.

The circular room was quiet. Four beds stood before him, and three of the four's scarlet bed hangings were closed. George crossed to his trunk and pulled out a set of pajamas.

He was pulling off his blue Weasley jumper when two of the bed hangings snapped open. Fred clambered off of one bed, Lee the other.

"So, Elsa experiencing a bit of the Weasley charm?" Fred asked, shielding his eyes when George stripped to his pants and pulled on his pajama bottoms. George reached up and scratched his chest.

"Did you snog her?" Lee asked, sitting on the top of his own trunk.

George grinned, sitting on top of his trunk and pulled on his pajama top. "You did!" Fred cried.

"No," George shook his head.

"So she's still single," Lee muttered, turning and missing the look on George's face.

"Lee, Lee, Lee," Fred shook his head. Lee turned around and looked at him, questioningly.

"Leave it, Fred," George warned.

"You saw her first!"

"So? I doubt she'll be going around snogging anyone any time soon," George scooted back and onto his bed, laying down in the center.

"Oh, and why's that?" 

George shook his head.

"You going to fight everyone that wants to take a shot at her?" Lee asked, moving over and sitting on George's trunk. Fred joined him. "Because I think I could take you."

George shook his head.

"If you haven't noticed, she's kind of…well…gorgeous," Fred agreed with Lee, narrowing his eyes at his twin.

George rose up on his elbows and look at the two. "I know she's bloody gorgeous," George spat, blue eyes blazing.

"Well then, what makes you think she's not going to go off with the first guy…"

"I just know, okay."

He didn't want to mention the fact that her mother just passed away and she was still broken up about that. Or the fact that she had to spend one-on-one time with Callum, which is enough to turn even the straightest girl to the other side. 

"Whatever. If you're not going after her, then I'll – " Lee started, but stopped when George jumped off of the bed and stormed over to him, craning his neck downward so they were nose to nose.

"Leave her alone."

"Why?" Lee stood, causing George to take a step back.

George heaved a sigh. "I saw her first." He stuck his tongue out at his best mate and they all laughed.

"Okay, okay. But if that doesn't work out, she's mine."

"Whatever, Lee. What makes you think she'll want you anyway?"

"What makes you think she'll want you?" Lee shot back, heading towards his own bed.

"She kissed me," said George simply, before snapping his bed curtains closed with a snap, smirking all the while.


	5. Walkin' on Sunshine

(A/N: This chapter contains underage drinking)

George was thrilled to be on a broom again. After months of having been locked up in Grimmauld Place left to clean and look after the kiddies, a bit of fresh air and freedom was, he felt, good for him. He sighed happily as he threw his Cleansweep over his shoulder and headed down to the common room to meet the rest of his teammates.

Tryouts for the Gryffindor Quidditch team were today. They started smoothly, as smoothly as could be with a bunch of ninny third years itching at the chance to be on the renowned team. George plastered a smug look on his face when one of said third years marched up to him and his twin and promptly told them that they were the best beaters he'd ever seen, and that his dad thought so, too.

Alicia, a Chaser, smacked them on the back of their heads and told the boy to go sit with the others before he boosted the twins' egos beyond reducing level.

George was surprised when he'd filed onto the pitch with Fred, Angelina, Katie, and Alicia. There were people from his year he'd never even seen on a broom, and that included flying lessons first year. Seventh year Gryffindor prefect, Callum Jarvey, sat next to two seventh year girls, Libby Foster and Imogen Turner, none of which he could recall ever having touched a broom. He reasoned the girls would've been afraid to break a nail and Callum…well, his study habits put his elder brother, Percy, to shame.

George scowled at the thought of Percy.

Another person he hadn't expected to see at tryouts: Elsa Poe. He'd briefly wondered which position she was going to try out for (and whether or not she'd be able to sit properly and comfortably on a broom in the jeans she wore, which seemed like she must've had to have been poured into they were so form fitting). But his wonderment was short lived when she joined Lee Jordan in the stands. She'd just come to watch.

George felt a bite of jealousy towards Lee for a moment. Seeing Elsa made his palms become sweaty, and butterflies seemed to be having their own Quidditch match in his stomach.

He hadn't even heard Angelina explaining the process to the team-hopefuls, and barely noticed when everyone had taken to the air besides him. He mounted his broom, kicked off the ground, and then he was flying, along side Fred, doing warm-up laps around the pitch.

He was sweating by the time Angelina had decided she'd seen enough, and after a brief team meeting, the new members were announced and congratulated. "Party in the common room!" was heard over the crowd as people exited the stadium and walked towards the school. Team members made their way to the Gryffindor changing rooms.

George showered and changed and, along with Fred and Ron (who had tried out for and made Keeper), left the tent. Outside, they were met by Lee, Angelina, Alicia, and Katie. The three girls were Chasers. As they headed up to the castle, Alicia suddenly turned to Lee.

"Where's Elsa? She was here before tryouts started."

"She said something about dinner and meeting her sister," Lee answered. "She also mentioned that she'd kill to be able to fly like you lot. I told her I'd take her up some time, but she looked kind of skeptical. What? Just because I'm not on a team doesn't mean I'm rubbish at it!"

"But Lee," George started, trying to find the appropriate words. He finally just said, "You _are_ rubbish at it."

"But I'd try, like, a thousand times harder for _her_ on the back of my broom."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Katie piped up, looking at Lee indignantly.

"Have you seen her?" Lee screeched. "I mean, I'm not one to judge, but she's…very attractive." George thought back to his conversation with Lee two nights ago. _This kid just won't give up._

"Yeah, but I bet she's got nothing but cobwebs upstairs, if you know what I mean," Katie answered, her eyebrow arched gracefully.

"Don't get all peeved, Kat," Fred said coming up between her and Angelina. He slung one arm over each of the girls' shoulders. "Men like the female form. And that female…has a nice form."

"Ugh, pig," Angelina muttered, both girls easily tossing his arm from around them.

"What?" Fred mock pouted. "George, you agree, right?"

"Absolutely. She's a knock out."

"Not that you aren't, love," Fred smacked his lips against Angelina's cheek. She groaned. "I like my girl with a little…junk in her trunk. A little meat on her bones. More cushion for the pushin' right George?" George held up his hands in mock surrender.

"There's a lot more to her than her looks, _Fred_. And she's not an airhead, Katie." Angelina looked at the two pointedly.

"And just how would you know?" Katie demanded.

"Because we share a dorm with her." Alicia answered as the group approached the front doors to the castle. "She's awfully quiet. But she's polite, and inquisitive, and has a very interesting past."

"What do you mean?" George spoke up.

"Well, she was home schooled, after all. And her mum a muggle-born witch and her dad's an Auror…" _Duh, knew all of that…except the muggle-born thing, but…_

"And…" George pressed.

"Oooh, a girl has finally sparked Georgie boy's fancy. Besides, you know, the physical," Lee piped in.

"I'm not the slag twin."

"Oi! Neither am I…anymore." Fred waggled his eyebrows at Angelina.

"She's helped me with homework almost every night this week. Same as you. She turned you on to those Sneezewort leaves. Just imagine all the things you could come up with if you'd just _read_ more," Angelina said, giggling at Fred.

"It's only the end of the first week of term and already you're starting study groups?" Fred cried, seeming to be unable to grasp that piece of information.

"It is NEWTs year, after all. It'd do you good to study, too."

"Yeah, that'll happen," he muttered, turning to George, who nodded his head.

"Please." Angelina's bottom lip jutted out as they moved into the Great Hall.

"No promises, love."

The answer seemed to appease Angelina and they moved into the Great Hall, past Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw's tables and to Gryffindor. Angelina picked a spot near the middle; Ron had gone off to join his fellow fifth years.

"Oh, Elsa!" George's head snapped up. Elsa was sitting on the opposite side of the table, her blonde hair falling in curls around her. Her head was bent towards another blonde girl with straight hair. They had the same blond hair and button noses, but the second girl looked younger. George recognized her from the train.

"Oh, hey Angelina," the girl muttered. George watched the words tumble from between her glossy lips. The same glossy lips that had kissed his cheek two nights ago. He could almost feel her lips on his skin just thinking about it.

"We were just leaving," the younger girl told them, shooting them a sickly sweet smile before standing up. The two had long since changed out of their school uniforms – as did most students by seven in the evening – and wore muggle clothes, causing them to stand out in the sea of witches and wizards.

Elsa smiled an apologetic smile at them, before turning to the girl. "You don't have to be so rude, Tori. Are you sure we can't – "

But the younger girl cut her off. "It's only for a couple of hours. It's bad enough you canceled this afternoon…"

"Quidditch tryouts were today. I'm Angelina Johnson." Angelina stuck her hand out to the girl, who shook it. Then she turned and gave Elsa a pointed look before walking away. Elsa's eyes followed her out of the Great Hall.

"Sorry about her. That was Victoria, or Tori. My little sister. She's a tad upset," Elsa told them, her eyes glancing to the group of Gryffindors in front of her. Lee and Katie had moved around to the other side of the table and were sitting next to her. The other four sat down as well.

"What's she so upset about?" Fred asked while shoveling food onto his plate. George followed suit trying to keep his eyes on his plate. He felt a pair of eyes on him and looked up, finding Elsa looking at him strangely.

"She just doesn't want to be here and she's completely livid that we were sorted into different houses. She's driving me mad." She crossed her arms in front of her and leaned her head on her arms. She took a deep breath and looked up. "Sorry, you don't want to hear about my problems."

"S'okay. That's what we Gryffindors do. Help each other out. If you ever want to talk…" Angelina trailed, looking to the girl. She smiled and nodded.

"I should go, she's going to flip out on me." The blonde rose, and George noticed a sliver of creamy stomach creep out between the bottom of her jumper and the waistband of her jeans (which, in his opinion, looked fantastic draped low over her hip bones).

Elsa grabbed a bag off of the floor and threw it over her shoulder, causing her jumper to inch up over her side for a moment. George heard Alicia snort from beside him, but the creamy flesh had his stare. She waved 'goodbye' to everyone, smiling slightly, and began to walk away when Angelina called out to her and waved her back over.

"There's a party…in the common room tonight," she told her. "To celebrate the new Quidditch team. So, if you can manage to get away…"

"Oh, of course…" 

George leaned over towards Elsa. If he looked right, he could see down the deep 'v' of her jumper and find her cleavage. But instead he looked at her face, her blue eyes catching his. "After party in the boys dormitory," he added, grinning widely. She matched his grin and nodded.

"I guess I should go get this over with, then."

((00))((00))

The party was in full swing two hours later. George was sitting in a corner with his twin, a tray full of their inventions next to them. Fred called over to a third year girl with black plaited hair. She went over to them, giggling, and he held out a brightly colored wrapped candy, winking, before taking a swig of Butterbeer. She giggled and took it before turning and making her way back to her group of friends.

Fred watched as she unwrapped the candy and hit George's leg. He looked over to see his twin staring in a totally different direction than Fred's victim. A scream pierced the air and Fred's head snapped back around. The girl's hair, once a shiny black, was turning different colors. Fred had a laugh and looked at George, who was still staring off. He followed his twin's gaze to the opposite corner.

Angelina, Alicia, Katie, and Elsa had pulled squashy maroon chairs together and were currently laughing about something. They each had bottles of Butterbeer clutched in their hands. Someone said something, and suddenly their heads were thrown back in another round of laughter.

"Oi, what's with them?"

The voice of Lee Jordan startled the twins and George sat up straight, not realizing he'd been staring. He tried to play it off casually, but noted Fred's skeptical gaze.

"You're not having it off with Alicia again, are you?" Fred's eyes narrowed. George shook his head.

"Definitely not. You only make that mistake once," George assured his twin, willing his gaze to fall anywhere other than the group of girls.

"I dunno, mate. She seems to still be smitten."

"Nah, I heard she was going with someone over the summer," George shrugged, conveniently forgetting to mention the incident in the greenhouses on the first day. He lifted his bottle to his lips and realized it was empty. He leaned down and set it on the floor.

"Oh yeah? I heard she'd been making many an appearance at Puddlemere United practices this summer," Lee remarked, finishing off his own bottle.

"Oliver Wood?" Fred raised his eyebrows. Lee merely shrugged, adding his bottle to the floor.

"Is that all you boys think about?" a voice spoke from behind George and he groaned. _What's she doing here?_ he thought miserably. _Oh duh, she's in your house and year._

Libby Foster had perched herself on the arm of George's chair. She tossed her light brown hair over her shoulder and some of it smacked George in the face. Sure, she was pretty enough, with dainty features and soft, honey colored eyes. She was curvy, but not overly so. She had also had a crush on George since first year.

Even with Fred's encouragement to, in his words 'tap that,' George had never pursued Libby. Not even for a friendship. He'd thought that she was over him after the fiasco last year when he'd slipped a Puking Pastille onto her breakfast plate one morning, but she – not being able to think bad of George – had assumed that Fred had done it. That earned Fred a weeks' worth of detention.

Someone obviously had answered Libby's question, for she had gone off into a long speech about women's rights and stereotypes and such, but George tuned her out and resumed his staring.

Never before had George taken such an interest in a human being, much less of the female sex. He felt like a voyeur watching her, studying her like he did. He began to notice things he normally never would, even after dating girls.

Her nails were neatly manicured and a bright red. Her eyebrows were arched perfectly, and he caught himself wondering if she'd done it by magic. Her hair always seemed to curl perfectly, and he'd never seen it worn up, even the morning he'd caught her coming in from a run. Her hair swept gracefully down her back, matted to her forehead with sweat. Even then her lips had been deliciously pink and shiny.

He felt like he knew her style after not even a week knowing her. She wore her Hogwarts uniform and robes proudly (_probably because she'd never gone to school before and felt like a part of something_, was his guess) but almost as soon as the last bell rang out through the halls of the castle and across the grounds, she was out of the skirt and into jeans, which she usually paired with a girly tank top. Her close looked high fashion and incredibly expensive. Even the simple jeans she wore gave off an air of value, like they seemed to be made just for her.

George shook his head and cursed slightly. He was becoming _such_ a _girl_ now, noticing things such as these. She had become his obsession. He mentally kicked himself.

George Weasley was obsessed with Elsa Poe.

((00))((00))

McGonagall had entered the common room at 10:30 and scolded every fifth year and under for being out of bed. Even though it was a Friday night, she held firm on curfew and shooed the students up to bed. With the party significantly died down, most students began to trickle upstairs, the thrill of the first week of term exhausting them.

Left were a group of sixth years and the seventh years. The seventh year groups (plus Katie) that had previously been separate, merged together in a circle near the girls staircase.

"Well make sure Callum is appeased and meet you up in ten minutes," Fred told them, his arm sliding around Angelina's waist. The group nodded and Fred kissed Angelina noisily before they parted ways and went to their designated dormitories.

George climbed the stairs behind Fred and Lee and made his way into the seventh year dormitory. Callum's curtains were already drawn around his bed, the blue glow of a silencing charm pulsed underneath the crimson curtains.

"At least he's out of the way," Lee muttered, pulling off his shirt. The trio changed into their nightclothes, and Fred was just pulling a glass bottle out of his trunk when there was a short rap on the door. George opened it to find Angelina, Alicia, and Elsa in their nightclothes as well, each wearing a pair of fuzzy house shoes. He moved out of the way for them to enter, and they did. Elsa entered in last, and George noticed a bag slung over her shoulder.

She moved into the room and set the bag down, a distinct ring of glass hitting glass pulsed through the silent room. "Are you sure it's safe for us to be here?" she whispered, her deep blue eyes darting around the room.

"Sure. It will be, once Katie gets here," Fred muttered, sitting on the floor and tugging Angelina down next to him. He grabbed the glass bottle off of his trunk and opened it. A loud 'hiss' rang out through the room as the seal was broken. He shrugged his shoulder and swallowed some down, wincing at the burn in his throat.

"What is that stuff?" Elsa whispered, taking a seat next to Angelina, her butt on the floor and her legs crossed under her. George started to answered, but had to stop himself from groaning out loud when her pink and purple striped shorts rode up higher, exposing more of her thigh.

"Ogden's Firewhiskey," Angelina answered, taking a sip herself, before passing the bottle to Elsa. She looked into the bottle of amber liquid before shrugging her shoulders, taking a large gulp herself. She coughed after the liquid had slid down her throat, and she waved her hand in front of her mouth.

"I'll have to pass on that," she muttered, handing off the bottle to Alicia, who had sat next to her.

"But the whole point of an after party is for us to get pissed…" Fred muttered, but she had already stood and crossed to the bag she had brought. She opened it and pulled out a tall bottle with amber liquid and some sort of sticks floating at the bottom. She pulled out another and then a small glass.

"What's that?" George asked, eyeing the liquid. She held up the tiny cup and one bottle and sat back in her spot between Alicia and Angelina. George took a seat by his twin and Lee sat between him and Alicia.

"This is a shot glass," Elsa replied. George notice Fred roll his eyes, but looked on as Elsa pulled out her wand and muttered '_duplicus_' while swishing and flicking. The shot glass duplicated itself and she handed it to Angelina. She continued until there were seven shot glasses.

Suddenly there was another knock and panic flashed across more than one person's face. Lee rose to answer the door and there was a collective breath out when he muttered, "Thank Merlin!" He moved back and Katie entered looking none too happy.

"Stupid bint!" She sat in Lee's spot and they made room for another person. "Bloody brat…" she seethed.

"Are you going to tell us who?" Alicia's voice rang out.

Katie looked startled as if she hadn't realized she was talking aloud, and noticed six pairs of eyes on her.

"Oh, well…bloody fucking Summer Nickman. She caught me sneaking out and threatened to snitch if I didn't tell her where I was going and I told her I was hungry and was going to knick something from the kitchens and she called me a liar and woke the whole bloody room up and they all wanted to know…stupid bint."

"What did you tell them?"

"Well Zoë was being a brat and Niamh was threatening to tell McGonagall so I started crying and told them I was having bad cramps and needed to see Madam Pomfrey. They left me alone, but I had to wait until they were asleep before I could get away."

"I would've cursed them," Alicia muttered. "Thank God all we've got is stupid Libby and Imogen. They probably wouldn't notice the three of us gone, even if we walked out right in front of them!"

"Anyway, back to the task at hand," Fred's voice broke the girls' debate over the worst roommates. "What is that stuff you've brought us, dearest Elsa?"

"Oh," she grinned, "this is Yeshiskova."

She didn't elaborate; she merely started poring the liquid into the shot glasses. George looked down at his own, and pressed his finger onto the top of it, before licking his finger. It tasted sweet and did not have the sting of alcohol.

"What is it?" Angelina brought the glass to her nose and smelled. She immediately put it back down and swiped her hand over her nose.

"My dad got the recipe from my uncle in Slovakia before he died. It is single malt whiskey, cinnamon sticks, and honey. It takes six months to make. You have to give the cinnamon and honey time to diffuse into the whiskey. To taste right, it has to be turned one turn counter clockwise every twenty-four hours."

Fred shook his head. "Whatever, if it's alcohol, it's good." He raised his glass into the air, signaling everyone to follow. Soon, seven glasses were raised. "To a great first term," he muttered.

"To meeting new friends," Angelina added bumping shoulders with Elsa.

"To a great Quidditch season and the house cup!" George added in. Their glasses clinked and everyone downed the shot. George winced as the liquid seared his throat, though, he had to admit, it did have a nicer after taste than Firewhiskey. _Must've been the honey. The cinnamon sure adds to the burn, though._

Everyone settled, praising the fact that Elsa had been smart and brought two bottles. She mentioned there was plenty more in her trunk, as she'd nicked it from her dad and done a duplicating spell on it. Cheers were heard round, and then a loud cough from behind the group. Everyone turned.

"If it's quite alright, do you mind not being up half the night?"

The voice was sharp, but heavy with sleep. Callum had left his bed and headed to the loo. Everyone snickered.

"Are you sure he won't snitch?" Elsa asked a moment later, after the laughter died. "The last thing I need is to get into trouble for bringing in alcohol…"

"Relax. Old Callie wouldn't snitch on us! Would you Callie?" The group once again turned to the tall boy with messy brown hair, who had begun to climb back into his bed. The boy simply scowled and snapped his curtains shut. A blue glowed showed he'd put his silencing charm back up.

"He's still sore from last year," George mentioned, scowling right back at the boy's bed.

"What happened?" Elsa asked, interested.

George smiled and leaned in. "We were having a party, much like this one, and he ratted us out to McGonagall. We 'accidentally' slipped a nosebleed nougat onto his dinner plate while they were still in their testing phase. Bled for days, if I remember correctly. Poor Pomfrey had to go to St. Mungos for more blood replenishing potion as Snape couldn't brew it fast enough."

They all had a good laugh from this. Angelina was the first to speak again.

"Well, in honor of our new friend," she gestured to Elsa who smiled widely, "I suggest we play a game of 'I Never' to get to know her better."

"What's 'I Never'?" Elsa asked, moving her head around the circle waiting for an answer.

"Well," Fred started, "we go around in a circle. Everyone hold up three fingers." Everyone held three fingers into the air. He quickly poured everyone a shot and placed the bottle in the middle of the circle. "Okay, one person starts, I will do the honors, and they say something that they've never done. I never had a stuffed bear, will be my turn. Then, if you have ever had a stuffed bear, you drink. Giddit?"

"Okay, so I had a teddy bear when I was little. I drink, right? And if I didn't, I wouldn't?"

"Right. And then if you drink, you put your finger down. The first person to have all three fingers down has to do a dare, which the person whose turn it was picks. Ready? If you've ever had a stuffed bear, drink. Then it's your turn, Georgie." The drinkers drank and put fingers down, Fred pouring their next shot.

"I never…" George hesitated, "…shagged, or dreamed of shagging, Angelina." Fred and Lee drank, which George expected, but so did Alicia. His eyes widened briefly.

"It was a dream," she was blushing furiously, but put a finger down anyway, she was down to one. George refilled and it was Katie's turn.

"I've never been out of Europe." Elsa, Fred, and George drank and they ended up with one finger, one finger, and two respectively.

"I've never played on a Quidditch team," was Lee's turn and everyone besides him and Elsa drank. Alicia had no fingers up and Lee was left to contemplate her dare. "I dare you to…kiss Elsa, Katie, and Angelina."

No one said anything for or against, and Alicia rolled her eyes. She stood and went over to the girls from behind, kneeling down and pecking each one of their cheeks. She shot Lee a defiant look and sat back in her spot.

"I meant on the lips!" he cried.

"You never specified," she said smartly. Fred and George nodded their agreement and Lee sat back, dejected.

"Okay, everyone gets three fingers again. Alicia, it's your turn." Fred muttered.

"Okay, I've…well, I was never home schooled," she said with a shrug of her shoulders. Everyone except for Lee drank and her brow furrowed.

"What? Mum couldn't afford to send us to primary school and we had to learn to read and write somehow," George answered, lowering a finger. "Your turn, Elsa." She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and giggled.

"I've never been on a broom," she said without hesitation. She smiled when everyone but her had to drink.

"How can you not have been on a broom?" Fred asked after she replenished his glass.

"My mum was never too fond of flying and my dad was so busy with work he never bothered. We didn't even own a broom."

"That's the worst thing that could ever happen to a kid," Fred muttered. Her eyes darkened.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that." The room was silent for a moment.

"Your turn, Angie." Lee cut in.

"I never liked being called Angie, you know," Angie muttered and then looked around. "Wait! That wasn't my turn! I was just making a comment!"

"Judges?" Alicia turned to Fred and George.

"Well, she did say 'I never' first," George pointed out. Fred nodded.

"Sorry, Angel. Anyone like being called Angie?" Everyone shook their heads and Fred grinned. "You get to take two, Love."

Angelina sputtered for a moment, but took her two shots and the game continued. The group continued, with George going out next, by Fred's hand. George had to lick the bottom of everyone's foot. Much to Fred's dismay, George pointed his wand and muttered '_scourgify_' at everyone's foot before licking. As he got to Elsa and she held her foot in the air for him, he had to restrain himself from looking up her shorts.

The next round Elsa lost and was dared, by George, to give him a five minute back massage. "This floor is killer," he'd muttered in response to Fred's questioning gaze. The latter shrugged. After the five minutes, the game commenced, and after the first bottle was empty, the second was dragged over. The statements were becoming naughtier, as well.

"I've never shagged in a classroom before," Lee stated. George giggled as Fred and Angelina, and to his surprise, Katie all drank and dropped a finger.

"I've never shagged a girl," was Elsa's next statement and the boys in the group all drank. Fred was out next and Elsa dared him to "take Angelina to bed" because she was about to pass out. Fred bid them ado and the game continued without him. They scooted together to make the circle smaller as Fred helped Angelina into his bed and cast a silencing charm.

"I've never shagged a boy," was George's next statement, which came out more as a breathy whisper as Elsa's bare knee brushed his cloth-covered one. As expected, the girls drank and dropped a finger.

It was Katie's turn next and she couldn't seem to think of anything. She put her finger to her chin thoughtfully, which seemed to throw Elsa and Alicia into a fit of giggles. George looked at the girls helplessly.

"I've never been afraid of the dark." _What? That's not dirty!_ George thought, but watched as Elsa drank and dropped a finger.

"Lee! It's your turn!" Alicia reminded him, giggling and poking his side. George rolled his eyes. She was too far gone for the amount of alcohol she'd consumed.

"I'm thinking, woman, calm down!" He pushed her fingers away impatiently. When she didn't stop poking his side, he tackled her onto her back. The force threw Elsa off guard and she slammed into George, who fell backwards, Elsa landing half on top of him.

"Oi!" Katie yelled, feeling left out. Elsa mumbled an apology and sat up, gasping. George, who wanted to grab her and pull her back to him, sat up himself, and gasped.

Somehow, Alicia and Lee had started snogging wildly, him on top of her and resting between her legs, her hands around his back and pulling at his pajama top as if to get him closer.

"Ew!" George groaned, but they didn't stop.

"Does it always end up like this?" Elsa asked, drawing her eyes away from the couple to George. George shook his head, holding a hand up to shield his eyes from his friends' enthusiastic snog fest.

"We should get to bed," Katie muttered, her eyes firmly locked on the opposite wall. She stood up and waved goodbye to the two. "See you at practice, George. It was fun, Elsa. Be careful on those stairs, they can be tricky when you can't see straight."

And with that, George and Elsa were left alone. The room was oddly quiet, and George looked up just in time to see Lee's bed curtains snapped shut. With the absence of Alicia, George knew what was going on behind those curtains.

The silence was awkward. Elsa began stacking up the glasses. She threw them into her bag. _She must have an unbreakable charm on them_, George assumed when the glass didn't shatter upon impact to the floor.

"So…" George started, standing up. Elsa stood up too. She tucked a stray piece of blonde hair behind her ear and smiled up at George. She was tall – with long legs, George noticed – but George was still a bit taller. He watched her slide on her fuzzy pink slippers.

"So…" she stood awkwardly. "Well, it was fun," she muttered, her cheeks becoming a light shade of pink. So light, George barely noticed in the sparsely lit room.

"Yeah," George agreed, mentally kicking himself for his lack of charm under pressure.

"I should go," she mumbled, picking up her bag and tossing it over her shoulder. The glass clinked inside. She made her way to the door.

"Quidditch practice," he blurted as she was reaching for the doorknob. She turned back to him.

"Excuse me?"

"We have quidditch practice tomorrow…you know, if you wanted to go for a fly. I could take you. I'm quite good."

That's right George. Talk yourself up. She's going to think you're full of yourself now you great prat!

"I know, I saw…tryouts today," she shrugged and looked at the floor for a moment. She looked back up at him and smiled. "Thanks, George." She walked over to him, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed his cheek. "You're a really nice guy." She smiled at him once more before turning around and leaving the room, shutting the door firmly behind her. His hand reached up to touch the spot on his cheek that she'd kissed, again, before her words hit him.

_Nice guy? What's that supposed to mean?_

((00))((00))


	6. Mistakes Happen

"Watch it!" Katie Bell muttered, ducking as a Bludger sailed past her head, shooting a glare at the twin it had come from.

George smiled sheepishly, shrugging in apology, before he turned and flew in the opposite direction. It had been Angelina's bloody idea to run drills together in the first place. Okay, so George may have been a little off his game because of the previous night. In fact, he dully noted that over half of the team should be just as hung over as he was at the moment.

His head was pounding, and he made a mental note to write Charlie and have him send him more hangover potion. He and Fred had only one dose left this morning and Fred had beat him to it. It was terrible, Ron's first practice and he couldn't even enjoy it!

Alicia had been avoiding him like the plague all morning. He'd been awake when she finally snuck back to her own dorm, and he'd snickered behind his hand at her the whole time. Okay, that was mean, he would even admit. But she shagged (or at least shared a bed with) his best friend. He had teasing rights as best mate. It was a written rule. Okay, not written, but he would try to remember write it down and post it for everyone to know.

Now she flew on the opposite side of the pitch as him. He intentionally flew towards her, smacking the Bludger into empty air on his way. She had stopped flying and was staring at the ground below them. He grinned.

Lee had just come on to the pitch. He moved into the stands and leaned back against the wooden bleachers, staring up at them, one hand shielding his eyes from the harsh sunlight.

"It's not funny," she hissed at George, before flying away as Angelina called to them. George was still laughing at her blush as he followed. Headache nearly forgotten, he tried to concentrate on the rest of practice.

Another hour and a half of drills and Angelina finally let practice end. The sun was lowering to the west, casting a faint orange glow over everything.

George landed and turned back to Alicia, a snarky comment on the tip of his tongue, when he followed her gaze. Lee was walking onto the pitch, a broom in his hand, a girl trailing him.

Elsa nearly had to run to keep up with Lee, as his legs were a bit longer; the fact that the boots she wore had heels didn't help. The duo approached the group and Ron and Harry left for the changing rooms.

"Going to take her up on your broom, Lee?" Fred asked, smirking. He had no knowledge Alicia had even spent the night in their dorm, much less in Lee's bed.

"Nah. Thought I'd fly solo this time." He was looking everywhere except at Alicia, his face growing red.

"Shall we then?" Fred mounted his broom.

"Honestly. If you still have energy to fly I obviously didn't work you hard enough," Angelina muttered, throwing her own broom over her shoulder.

"Oh, Angel, you work me plenty hard. You should know that. Besides, there'll be time for that later."

"It's been a long time since I've had a leisurely fly," Katie said loudly, giggling at Angelina's blush.

George smiled, his eyes shifting to Elsa, who was standing awkwardly on the pitch, her hands clasped together, blonde hair tumbling down her back.

"Hey, Elsa. Fancy a ride?" George asked, the tease evident in his voice. Her eyebrow arched, again. He was beginning to like that look on her.

Alicia and Katie hid their giggles behind their hands and Angelina buried her face in Fred's shoulder.

"Sure, George."

Elsa walked over to George, amid the stares and giggles from the others. She stood directly in front of George, his broom in one hand.

"So, how do we do this?"

More giggles.

"You just get on."

Fred laughed out loud.

"I just get on?"

"Yep."

She lifted her leg over the broom, straddling it, and grasping the wood in front of her. Then she arched her eyebrow again. "Front or back?"

Alicia actually snorted at this and had the audacity to look sheepish.

"Honestly, enough with the sexual innuendos. Get on the damn broom, George," Angelina muttered.

"What?" He asked, innocently, winking at Elsa. He carefully positioned himself in front of her.

"Can we ride like that, Angel?"

George didn't wait to listen for the answer. He leaned backwards and whispered for her to hold on to him. She grasped him around the chest, pressing her chest tightly against his back. He pushed, hard, off the ground and they were in the air.

He headed west, towards the sunset. He pulled up on the broom a bit and they began to ascend. He veered left and they were heading towards the castle. He smirked, before pushing down a bit, causing the broom to go into a steep dive.

"Ahh!" She screamed in his ear, her grip on his chest beginning to hurt. He smiled and suddenly got a face full of her hair as he turned again.

Her smell assaulted his nostrils when he took a deep breath through his nose. She smelled of strawberries and a hint of something flowery. The smell was intoxicating to him, but he had to turn again before he was blinded and flew them into a tree.

He slowed and began flying lazy circles and figure eights around the pitch. He felt her shrug and sigh against his Quidditch robes. He smiled when he felt her rest her head against his back.

They flew in silence for twenty minutes, until they could barely see the ground. He felt her sit straight up and mutter a curse word under her breath.

"What?" He asked, turning his head to see her. She was looking at the ground, a tiny figure was making their way onto the pitch. Stalking, was more like it. He swore he could feel their angry stomps in the air.

"Elsa Margaret Poe!"

Oh, so it was her sister. "Margaret?" he asked. She nodded against his back and he slowly, reluctantly, made his descent towards the ground.

The others had made their way down as well, and were waiting for them. George dismounted the broom and grabbed Elsa around the waist when she nearly fell off. Her foot caught on the broom and she stumbled into his chest. He clutched her to him for a moment, their eyes locking. She smiled at him and righted herself.

"Elsa!" Her sister was standing equidistant between the entrance and where they were standing, tapping her foot impatiently, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

"I guess I'd better go." She looked apologetically at the others around her before turning to George. She began backing out of the group, smiling.

"Thanks for the ride, George," she said loudly, before turning around and heading towards her sister. Once she reached her, they had a few heated words before turning and walking towards the castle. Elsa turned around and waved at them. Or him.

_Anytime._

He made his way to Gryffindor table for dinner, freshly showered and changed into jeans and a dark gray Falmouth Falcons tee shirt. George was surprised to see Elsa sitting, her sister nowhere to be seen. His eyes narrowed, however, when he recognized just who was there. He'd recognize the brown hair and cocky expression anywhere.

"Jarvey," he said, sitting opposite them. Elsa gave him a small smile, but he kept his eyes trained downward. Fred and Angelina sat next to him.

"Hello, Callum," Angelina smiled at him. His eyes turned to her. He looked between her and Fred smirking.

"Hello Johnson. Weasley. Have a good night last night?" He sneered, staring straight at Angelina.

"The best. Have any nose bleeds lately?" Fred leaned in and glared at him right back. Callum gulped, his adams apple bobbing.

"Not that I can say."

"That must be a good sign," George said offhandedly, his eyes still trained on Elsa. He shook his head and ladled beef stew into his bowl. He grabbed a roll from the pile and began eating his dinner.

"I should be going. I will see you tomorrow, Elsa?" He stood but looked back down at her questioningly.

"Two o'clock," she muttered. He nodded curtly and left. "Fucking Potions," she hissed, pushing her empty bowl out of the way. She put her head in her hands.

"We can go with you, if you like." Angelina offered. Elsa seemed to consider this for a moment, before shaking her head.

"He mentioned that he's not on the best terms with you, and I don't think he'll give a very good report to Snape if I bring you lot along…"

"He's got to report to Snape?" George asked.

"Yep. After every session, which only has to be once a week, thank God." She looked thoughtful for a moment before she smirked. "Now," she started, making sure she had their attention. "If you happen to be in the library at two in the afternoon tomorrow and, you know, happen to sit at our table, there's really nothing he can do about it, is there?"

"I like how this girl thinks," Fred muttered. "One problem, though."

"What's that?"

He leaned over the table to her, motioning her to lean in, conspiratorially. "I've never studied in the library before."

"Or at all," Angelina muttered.

"Yes, well, jolly good that." Fred shot her a look.

"Knock it off, you two. You're like a damn married couple," George muttered, bringing the bowl to his lips and tilting his head back, the left over broth. He set the bowl down and swiped his hand over his mouth.

"Learn some manners," Alicia hissed, taking the seat Callum had vacated.

"Finally pulled yourself off of Lee long enough for some nosh, Ali?" Angelina smirked. Alicia's eyes narrowed.

"You are spending entirely too much time with that one," she nodded her head at Fred.

"Hey!" Fred cried, seemingly put out. "I resent that."

"Good," was all she said as she ladled her own stew.

Sunday was a cool, cloudy day. It rained most of the morning and over lunch, so when the group of seventh years, shy of Elsa, walked into the library, they weren't even sure they'd get a table with her.

They moved around, knowing she was in the common room waiting for Callum, and found a large empty table near the back. "Hope she finds us," Angelina muttered, her school bag clattering on the table.

"No point in subjecting ourselves to this if she's not even going to sit with us," Fred agreed. He mentioned something about homework and shagging this morning when he was packing his schoolbag, and George thought that Angelina was finally getting smart. She seemed to be the only one who cared whether or not Fred did his homework, so she was withholding shagging until he did it. Smart girl.

Without Fred to entertain himself with, George reluctantly started on his homework, too. He pulled out his Muggle Studies book and quickly glanced over the assignment. Write an essay about the history of muggle rock music. That was simple enough. And, to top it off, Professor Burbage hadn't specified a length.

George looked up from his quill box and saw Elsa walk into the library with Callum. She was looking around, and he willed her to look their way. As if hearing his thoughts, she turned and caught his eye. Then she turned to Callum and motioned to their table, muttering something.

He gave her a skeptical look, but nodded, and followed her to the table. George noticed that her hair was straight today. She'd only ever had it curly and now the blonde tresses fell straight over her shoulders and down to the middle of her back. She looked more like her sister with her hair like that.

"Hello," she smiled brightly at them, and everyone looked up. "Fancy meeting you lot hear," she eyed George and he smiled. She sat down across from him in the empty seat. Callum looked around and then back down at her.

"Maybe we should go to the dungeons. I'm sure Professor Snape would let us work down there. It's so…_crowded_ up here." He gave George a once-over and smirked.

"Oh," Elsa chirped, turning to them. "Well, we'd have to go all the way downstairs. Why don't we try out here and if it doesn't work we can go to the dungeons, okay?"

"Yeah, sure." He conceited. George did a mini-dance in his head. _Take that, Callie_.

Elsa reached into her bag and pulled out a book, a pad of parchment, a box of quills, a jar of ink, and a circular object that he'd never seen before. Apparently he wasn't the only one who'd noticed, because Fred asked, "What the hell is _that_?"

"It's a portable CD player," she said simply, sticking something in the side of it. She noticed their looks and frowned. "You've never seen one before I take it?" They shook their heads. Even Callum looked intrigued.

She flicked a switch on the front and the lid popped out, revealing a circular object with a whole in the middle of it. "This is a compact disc," she said simply, and everyone leaned in as if she were giving a lesson. She kind of was.

"What's it do?"

"On this side, there's a label of sorts telling you what's on the CD. On the other side, there's the content. Such as music, or files, photos, things like that."

"How does it get on there?" Alicia asked.

"A laser at the manufacturing company burns the music onto the CD and then when you put it in the player, another laser reads it and it comes out as music. I'm sure it's more complicated than that, but that's as best as I can explain it."

"Well, how does it work here, then? According to _Hogwarts: a History_, muggle devices can't work here. There's too much magic," Callum, the little know it all, actually spoke. George nearly gagged at his smug expression.

"My dad charmed it," she said simply, placing fuzzy things inside her ears. Then she was lost, because people kept asking questions but she didn't answer. _She can't hear you, idiot,_ he laughed when Callum was talking to her. She merely bobbed her head up and down.

It dawned on George right then, and he kicked himself for not realizing it sooner. She was the girl from the shop in Ottery St. Catchpole. She was the one playing the guitar. She's the one the woman almost beat me over.

He smirked.

The seventh years had been studying for nearly an hour before they were interrupted. George felt rather than saw a person sit next to him. With a whiff of perfume, he knew exactly who it was.

"Hello, Libby," Alicia muttered, looking up from her own Potions book when the girl sat down at their table. Fred elbowed George in the side and George looked up, seeing Elsa eyeing Libby.

"Alicia. How are you?" Libby's sickly sweet voice made George cringe. It meant she wanted something. George groaned inwardly and turned to his classmate.

"What can we do for you, Libby?" He asked tightly, trying his best to put on a smile. He saw Elsa watching him out of the corner of his eye.

"Do you think we could go somewhere more…_private_? I need to ask you something." She drummed her fingers on the table, her cheeks going pink.

"Erm – "

"Lib!" A voice called and she looked up.

"I'll be there in a minute, Imy!" she called turning to George.

"Find me in the common room later? It's really important." She touched his arm, lingering for longer than he was comfortable with, before she left with Imogen.

"What was that all about?" Fred asked slyly, bumping shoulders with him. George shrugged and looked up at Elsa. She had put her fuzzies back in her ears and her eyes were trained on the parchment in front of her. George's face fell.

"Probably trying to get into your pants, George," said Callum. George turned. Callum was leaning closely to Elsa, his chin practically on her shoulder, his chest nearly pressing against her back. And she wasn't pushing him off. George's eyes narrowed.

"I'm going to go find out what she wanted." He snapped his book closed and tossed it in his bag. He gave Elsa one last glance; she was looking right back at him. He didn't know her well enough to be able to read her face, but he thought he saw a trace of anger in her dark eyes and tight lipped expression.

He didn't give it a second thought, however, as he left the library.

George pushed the swirling thoughts out of his mind, the pit of his stomach gurgling uncomfortably. He rolled over. He refused to wrap his mind around what he'd just done. It was sick. He was twisted. He was disgusted with himself.

"Where are you going?"

He groaned. He stood up, pulling up his trousers with him. He turned back down to the girl whose voice had nearly made him gag, and quickly turned away. He couldn't even bare to look at her.

"Hey," she rose onto her elbow and smirked at him. "I knew you'd come around." He grunted a response and found his shirt on the floor a few feet away. He grabbed it and pulled it over his head.

"Get dressed," he muttered, trying his best not to be an arsehole about the whole situation. He was kicking himself for it: his jealousy and lack of self control.

Libby wrapped her arms around his waist and held him tightly. _At least she got dressed,_ he told himself. He let her hold on for only a moment before he moved away.

"Come on." He barely noticed her pout as he threw open the door to the deserted classroom on the fifth floor.

"Why'd we have to leave so soon?" She pouted. Her voice was sugary sweet. George felt ill just hearing it.

"'Cause it's almost dinner time and if we aren't there people will wonder where we are." He said simply, his head sticking out into the hall. Once he made sure the coast was clear, he walked briskly towards the main hall and the main staircase. When he got there, he hoped people would just assume that Libby had been following him around.

"So?" she said smugly, looping her arm through his. He tried to move his arm, but she had a vice grip on him. "I'm so glad you're finally my boyfriend, George," she gushed as they entered the main hall which connected to the main staircase.

George's face fell. Apparently, his timing sucked that day.

Elsa, Angelina, Alicia, Fred, Lee, and Callum were all coming up the staircase. They all turned and looked at him. He looked at Elsa, and she looked away immediately. She stomped up the stairs. Angelina gave him a look and hurried after her, Alicia on her heels.

Callum continued the trek alone and Fred and Lee waited for him.

"I'm going to go meet Imogen. I'll see you later, baby," she said smoothly, standing on her tip toes and kissing his lips. She scampered off and George went to Fred and Lee.

"What happened?" Fred whispered. Lee looked excited. George felt sick.

"The biggest mistake of my life."


	7. I'm Here

I'm Here

The next few weeks passed agonizingly slowly for George. He had Quidditch practice, the owl-order business, and now a girlfriend to contend with. He wouldn't have been too put out if she had been the right girl, but Libby Foster definitely wasn't the right girl for George.

Elsa had ignored George for the most part, even when they'd been forced (by their lovely friends, of course) to sit next to each other during a few lessons. Elsa had gone out of her way to avoid George. That had hurt him the most.

She even went so far as to studying by herself in her room. That had pissed off Angelina and Alicia, and they ended up studying up there with her. That pissed of Fred and Lee. In a round about way, everyone was pissed off at George.

Everyone except the one person he wanted to be hacked off at him: Libby. He'd tried to ignore her. He'd tried to break it off with her. He didn't recall promising anything. He never said it would continue during their shag in an empty classroom.

He'd tried to explain it to her, too. But Libby never listened to anyone. And for this reason, he was pissed at himself. He'd let his jealousy over take him. If only he'd seen it in her eyes. She'd fancied him, he knew it. As soon as she found out about him sleeping with Libby, he'd known. If he wasn't so thick, he'd have known sooner.

"Fix her," Fred'd said during the second week of getting the silent treatment from people he'd thought were his friends.

"_Pardon?" George looked up from the first years and clipboard. They were in a dusty, unused classroom on the second floor and were testing Puking Pastilles at the moment. He almost hadn't heard him over the retching of the first years. "Hang on," he told his twin. One particular girl could not stop retching long enough to swallow the other half of the taffy._

_He finally got it into her mouth and she stopped puking. He turned back to his twin. Fred had a concerned look on his face. He shook his head, however, and turned back to their test subjects._

_Fred handed out the gold while George handed out slips about their next meeting time and place. "Let Fred or I know if you're not going to make it!" he called after the first years._

"_Now. What?" George slumped into a chair, tossing his clipboard onto the table. He crossed his arms over his chest, sufficiently covering the three intertwined W's printed in yellow on the purple shirt._

"_Fix her. Fix Elsa. I don't care what you have to do, if I have to listen to Angelina bitch about her not being around one more time…" Fred leaned over to his twin, a sympathetic smile on his face._

"_What do you expect me to do, Fred? I don't like Libby. I've tried breaking up with her. She doesn't listen."_

"_Make her! Please. You're ruining my shag schedule. If I don't get shagged on a regular basis you know I get cranky."_

"_I'm sorry, mate. I will try to get rid of Libby. I'm not sure what I can do about Elsa, though."_

"_Talk to her. She'll listen…" he looked thoughtful for a moment. "I know you don't want to hear this, but you really screwed up, mate."_

"_I know," George muttered, his head dropping into his hands. "I'm a horrible person. I shouldn't even have gone to the library that day. You know I just went to make sure Jarvey didn't get too friendly…"_

"_And look at it now." Fred frowned, and George's head snapped up._

"_What? What happened?" Once George had figured out that nearly all of his friends were avoiding him, save during meals and Quidditch practice, he'd begun to spend most evenings in his room with Fred. Angelina refused to leave Elsa studying alone when she was so hacked off at George._

"_Well, ole' Callie is like her self proclaimed study partner now. He's always going to the library with her, or sitting in the common room with her, offering to read over her essays…she seems a bit annoyed, actually."_

"_Callie and Libby should be together with how persistent they are…" George looked thoughtful for a moment._

"_Do you think _you_ can break up with Libby for me?"_

"_I don't think so. Angie would kill me if I got involved with that disaster."_

"_Shite. What's the point of having a twin if you can't pull the ole' switcharoo every once in a while?"_

"_Just fix it!"_

"_I will!"_

A week later, however, on the thirtieth of September, he hadn't fixed it. Libby was as insistent as ever. She wanted to be with him every moment of every day. For once in his Hogwarts career, he was peeved that girls were not stopped from being in the boys' dormitory.

_Is a stone slide too much to ask for?_

He couldn't even escape her in his own room. To his credit, however, he hadn't lost control like he had that dreaded afternoon three weeks ago. He had not shagged Libby. He cringed even thinking about it.

Today was the day, he told himself that Monday morning. He would break up with Libby and then ask Elsa to Hogsmeade that weekend and harmony would be restored. Right?

If only everything in life happened that way.

George was jogging down the hallway, late for Charms. He'd sprinted from the greenhouses to the common room to get his book and now he was late. He rounded the corner, and was nearly slammed into the wall as someone grabbed his arm.

He was pulled into a dark room, the door clicking shut behind him. He had pulled out his wand to cast '_lumos_' when he was attacked. He knew at once that it was Libby. Her sloppy, wet kisses were a dead giveaway. He pulled his mouth away from hers to breath and tried to push her off of him, when she latched onto his neck. She sucked, hard, and he cried out in pain. She took it as something else, though, because she sucked harder and actually bit him.

"Stop!" he shoved her forcefully off of him and cringed when she fell to the floor. "Libby, I'm sorry, I didn't – "

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she cried. "Any other bloke would be happy to have a snog in an empty classroom and you're pushing me away. You haven't touched me since we started going out and I want to know why! The truth, George."

"I don't like you," he said bluntly. And even in the dark classroom, he could see her scowl. And feel her anger.

"You used me!" she began pacing, her light brown hair billowing furiously behind her. "You used me for sex and then…you're dropping me?"

"Sorry," said George, though he wasn't. He wasn't expecting the blow to his face, but he couldn't say he didn't deserve it. Her lower lip trembled, and he felt sorry for her. Until…

"What is the meaning of this?"

"Professor McGonagall!" Libby tried to straighten her uniform, smoothing her black robes down, before pointing at him accusatorily. "He attacked me!"

"I did not!" He couldn't believe he'd felt sorry for her. "Professor, I swear!"

Professor McGonagall gave him a pointed look, her eyes narrowing at the bruise forming on his neck. She looked between the two of them and George groaned. She wasn't stupid. She'd figure it out.

"Miss Foster, I suggest you not lie to me anymore. There's evidence that you, in fact, had some…" she eyed the hickey, "part in all of this. Detention," she looked between them again. "Both of you. Report to my office at seven this evening. Now please return to your class."

"I hope you're happy," she hissed as she flipped her hair and walked out of the room. George shook his head, following her. They entered the Charms classroom single file and the entire class turned to them. George felt his neck grow hot, and he took the only available seat near the back.

Apparently his friends were trying to patch Elsa and him up today. "What are we doing?" he leaned over to her and whispered. She looked at him sharply, her eyes moving down his neck before snapping back to his face.

"Got caught snogging, did you?"

"She attacked me, I swear," he held up his hands in defense. "And I broke up with her, so she slapped me," he pointed out his reddened cheek.

"Oh," she said, but there was a smile in her voice.

"I'm a git," he muttered to her, his eyes trained on hers, not even caring that Professor Flitwick was showing the proper arm movements and incantation for a new charm they were studying.

"You are," she nodded in agreement, jotting down notes on her pad of parchment.

"Can we please be friends again? I promise I'll never speak to Libby again, that I can help. If she comes up to me…well, I hope you'll be there to hold me back because she got me detention tonight and I'm pretty pissed about that…"

"You got detention?" She turned sharply and met his gaze.

"Er, yeah."

She looked at him for a long moment, a smile tugging at the edges of her lips. "Okay," she conceited. "We can be friends again."

George thanked the Gods that Professor McGonagall had put Libby and him in separate rooms. He was on the sixth floor cleaning the boys' toilets with a toothbrush big enough for a troll. Libby was in Professor McGonagall's office writing lines. He had laughed when she'd set the line to write: '_I will neither fornicate in empty classrooms nor attack students._'

He threw the brush down into the sudsy water and left it under the sink. No one ever came up there, and the house elves would be up within hours to clean it again, anyway.

He left the bathroom and made his way down the hall, deciding to take the back staircase up to the common room. He passed empty classrooms, whistling while he walked. He could almost skip, he was so happy. Elsa was his friend again and Libby was out of his life…

He stopped in the middle of the deserted corridor and listened. He heard a faint noise. It stopped suddenly, and then muffled voices followed. He took his time pressing his ear to each door until he found the room the noise was coming from.

A piano.

He pressed his ear into the wood, straining to hear. There were voices. He couldn't tell how many, though. The noise had stopped and the voices were talking again.

"I don't like this part," one voice said. A few seconds of piano and then the same voice talked again. "I like it more like that."

"Okay, well what about this." A second voice said. The sound was fast and jumpy, and less like the smoother, slower sound of before.

"Elsa!" the first voice laughed.

George gasped. Elsa? His friend Elsa was in there right now playing the piano? He could see it, with her being able to play the guitar and all. Not that he'd actually heard her play it, mind. But that left the other voice a mystery.

"Victoria!"

Okay, so the sisters were in there playing a piano. That left the question, where they'd gotten a piano. George groaned, his head was spinning.

"I hate that name. It's Tori," the girl spat. He heard a giggle that was distinctly Elsa.

"Okay. Let's focus. We've got the first and second verses. What about the chorus, any ideas?" the voice was Elsa's and George smiled. She took charge.

"We have the melody, right?"

"Kind of. It kind of goes like this," she played some notes that George thought was extremely beautiful, until she hit one that was out of key. George cringed.

"Okay, not that note, sister," Tori said, smiling.

"Finger slipped, sorry." She played through the notes again and then they both voiced their agreement.

"So…the chorus…"

"Right. Well, the song's supposed to be about people holding us back. From someone we like, or who's not right for us." Tori explained. George nodded as if understanding, and then shook his head, throwing his hands up. _Not talking to you, George_.

He heard footsteps and voices and they were getting increasingly louder. He could either run away, go into the room and probably force the girls to stop, or get caught out after curfew and possibly get them in trouble, too. He breathed deeply before opening the door and closing it as softly as he could behind him.

"George!" Elsa cried, her fingers slipping on the piano and emitting a bunch of wrong notes.

"Shh!" he told her, waving a hand at her to keep it down, and pressed his ear against the wooden door.

"I could've swore I heard someone, Professor," a voice that sounded exactly like Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter's nemesis, said.

"They probably ran off when they heard us coming, Draco." George groaned inwardly. Professor Umbridge.

Their retreating footsteps sounded and George breathed a sigh of relief. He turned around and saw both blondes staring at him. He shrugged his shoulders and Elsa turned back to the baby grand piano in front of her. Tori wouldn't let it go.

"Were you spying on us?" She asked his in an accusatory tone. "He was spying on us!" She turned to Elsa and told her. Her eyes were trained on the notebook in front of her.

"I see that," she muttered, her eyes on the paper. George's heart fluttered. "He also saved your arse from detention so leave him alone."

"Who are you, anyway?"

"I'm Elsa's friend…George, George Weas – "

"Oh, you're _the_ George, huh?" but her face was turned to Elsa, who's own face had gone pink. "He's _the_ George?"

"Yes, Tor, he's _the_ George. Can we drop it, please?"

"Well, _the_ George, do you mind doing a one sided silencing charm on the door so no one can hear us but we'll be able to hear them?" She looked at him defiantly. _She's thinking I can't do it_.

He proved her wrong, though, and she looked at him, impressed. "Can you teach me that?" She bounced up and down, her flip flops slapping against the floor.

"Er – "

"Victoria Joy!" Elsa scolded her, "leave him alone!"

"Sorry _the_ George. _The_ Elsa says I can't have any more fun with you. _The_ Elsa, what point do I have in being here now?"

"We need to finish this. I don't understand. You're usually the slave driver. What changed?" Her eyes, however, stayed on the paper and it was unnerving to George.

"I can tell you two want to be…alone."

Neither of them said anything for or against Tori's comment. George was about to smile when Elsa proclaimed, "I've got it!"

"Ooh, whatchya got?" Tori hurried over excitedly and sat on the bench next to her sister. George eyed a moth eaten chair and did and quick Transfiguration charm on it. It was now a wide, overstuff leather chair big enough for two people.

"See," Tori nodded to George who'd just sat on the chair. "Told you he wants to be alone with you. He made that chair with enough room for you."

George hadn't actually done that on purpose, but he smirked, congratulating himself. Elsa was smiling but didn't look at him.

"I was thinking something like: _'They don't see, you're right where I want you and I think…' _but, the last part faster, you know: _'you're-right-where-I-want-you…'_" she played a few introduction notes on the piano, her long fingers skimming the worn ivory keys. And then she sang the line she'd just spoken.

"I like it. And then…"

"'_You could be, something that's more than expected._'" Elsa sang again. "'_Why let this go? All the way down from here, I'm here…_'"

"See!" Tori cried out, jumping off the bench and bouncing again. "You don't even need me. Let's sing this one time through and call it a night. We can work on the bridge later…"

"I thought we were going to work on 'Speak for Myself' a bit tonight, Tor."

"Well, Elle," she looked at her pointedly, "I didn't quite make a good first impression on your friends, now did I? I think I can redeem myself by leaving you and _the_ George alone in an empty, silenced-from-one-side classroom, don't you agree _the_ George?"

George was afraid to answer.

"Okay. Are you ready? I'm starting."

Her fingers began to move over the keys again, making perfect chords. Her hands moved with such elegance and grace, practiced ease, George wondered how long she'd been playing.

And then she started singing and his heart melted. Her voice was pure and angelic. With controlled power; heartfelt emotion. He let the lyrics wash over him.

No one needs to know how we feel  
No one needs to understand  
'Cuz they can't have a hold on us  
It's not just any kind of love  
I know when something is too sacred to touch

Tori's voice joined hers. Her voice was more bluesy; it had more of an edge to it. She sounded breathy, sultry, sexy. It caused George to blush._They don't see  
You're right where I want you and I think  
You could be  
Something that's more than expected  
Why let this go?  
All the way down from here  
I'm here_

George guessed this was Tori's verse because a red-faced Elsa was simply moving her hands over the keys of the piano. He was amazed at how concentrated she was.

_We both tend to run when we're hurting  
We both tend not to forgive and forget  
The past can't have a hold on us  
For you my heart will give it's trust  
I don't ask much of you, just need your love  
_

Elsa's voice added to Tori's for the second chorus and George smiled at the angelic ness of it.

_They don't see  
You're right where I want you and I think  
You could be  
Something that's more than expected  
Why let this go?  
All the way down from here  
I'm  
_

And then Elsa went off. Tori stopped and turned and watched her sister. Obviously, they hadn't practiced this portion of the song, and George smiled. She hit a bad note, not having time to work out the right chords. Her voice took on a harder, edgier tone.

_Here you go again  
Doubting yourself  
For no good reason  
You're listening to someone else_

"Well there's our bridge!" Tori clapped. George joined her, and the two girls turned, startled.

"Sorry," he muttered, blushing a bit.

"It's okay," Tori told him. "Just forgot you were here, _the_ George. Get kind of blind sided when we're working, if you know what I mean."

He did. He and Fred had been known to skip meals without even realizing it when working on a project. He was about to say so, as well, when Tori announced she was leaving.

She picked up the notebook that was open on the stand of the piano, closing it with a 'snap.' A wave later, she was closing the door softly behind her.

And then they were alone. They sat in silence for a long while. Elsa was staring down at the keys on the piano and George was staring at Elsa.

"I wrote it…pretty much by myself," she told him, turning and catching his eye briefly, for the first time since he'd entered the room. "I wrote the first verse on the Saturday you took me flying."

"That was a great day," he said softly, moving over to the bench and straddling it.

"It was," she nodded in agreement. She looked at him again. She blushed prettily.

"So you sing?" Her fingers began to run over the keys in no particular melody.

"I do. And play the piano."

"And the guitar." She stopped her hands and looked up at him.

"How do you know that?"

"You were at a music store in the village I live near at the beginning of July. I saw you in the window." He smiled, and she giggled, as if she were remembering. George liked how her nose scrunched when she laughed.

"Aunt Maggie's Music Shoppe." She smiled.

"That's right. Minus the aunt part."

"Oh, well, she is my aunt." She stopped playing the piano and turned on the bench, facing him.

"Really?" She nodded. His eyes narrowed. "Ottery St. Catchpole is a muggle village."

"It is," she nodded. "Aunt Maggie is a squib. She was my mum's sister." She blinked back tears and George's heart broke. In that instant he realized how much he cared for her. He didn't want to see that look on her face ever again and he would try as hard as he could to do just that.

He lifted his hand and cupped her face. His thumb rubbed the apple of her cheek, his fingers under her ear. She wore her hair straight today, and dangling earrings with three stars. He thought briefly of her tattoo.

He scooted towards her on the bench, and leaned forward, bringing his other hand up to rest on her shoulder. Her eyes were wide as if expecting, but she didn't move a centimeter, her hands folded in her lap. He leaned in closer, his blue eyes locked on hers. They sat like that, their breath mingling with each others'.

Then, he closed the gap. His lips touched hers softly, a whisper of a kiss. And then he pulled away. Her eyes spoke volumes about her. How much she cared for him. How right she felt this was. A bit of hesitation. He leaned forward to kiss her again, but she turned her head. He moved his back before his lips connected with her cheek.

"George," she whispered. "I can't."

His heart sank.

_I'm Here_ by Aly & AJ


	8. Reconciliation

She was staring at him.

George could feel the piercing blue gaze etching in to his skin from all the way across the common room. She'd been doing that a lot lately, ever since she'd run out on him after he'd kissed her. And that was four days ago.

She stared at him at breakfast. She stared at him in lessons. She stared at him at lunch and dinner. She even went out of her way to attend both Quidditch practices this week. George couldn't concentrate with her eyes boring in to him as much as they were. And, consequently, his Quidditch suffered. Angelina cursed him something fierce when he accidentally hit Alicia with his bat. She'd ended up in the Hospital Wing for hours after that getting her teeth fixed.

And now, Elsa was staring at him in the common room. The usual Friday-before-Hogsmeade-weekend happening around her. She was sitting in a chair across the room from him. He could still feel her eyes on him.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and his eyes twitched. He wanted to stare right back at her. He wanted to march over to that damn chair and demand an explanation. He wanted to snog her senseless to show her what she was missing.

Instead, he focused on the parchment in front of him. Fred was sitting next to him on the long bench. The table in front of them was cluttered with books. If anyone were to pass by, he or she would think the twins were studying. George laughed. Yeah, right. He only studied (now) when Fred was off with Angelina since _somebody_ didn't want to snog him. And even then, he always checked with Lee to see if he wanted to play a game of Chess or Exploding Snap. Lee'd been spending extra time with Alicia lately.

_I thought she was with Oliver Wood._

George shook his head. The parchment on the table in front of him was empty. Fred's was half full. Fred would be disappointed in him. Their brainstorming sessions were usually a lot more productive than this.

Ten minutes later, Fred announced the time limit was up and turned to George. George grinned sheepishly. He'd managed to jot down a few things while pushing down the urge to glare at Elsa.

In all reality, he didn't know why he was upset with her. Besides the fact that she turned tail and ran the moment his lips touched hers. If that wasn't a blow to his ego, he didn't know what was.

"What the hell is _that_?" Fred cried, gesturing with his quill at an idea George had put on the parchment.

"Nothing," George muttered, crumpling the parchment up in his hand and tossing it over his shoulder. It hit a student who cried "hey!" but George didn't turn. "What've you got?"

Fred had gotten a few ideas spot on, including a charm that allows the user to be thrust into an alternate reality for an allotted time period. Fred wanted to call them Daydream Dots. George snorted. _Sounds like a candy._ They agreed they'd work on the name later.

The duo began their research on the properties of invisibility cloaks, hoping to make a break into the disappearing market. George already had a prototype hat that they could use.

"Hello boys."

George's heart sped up but he refused to acknowledge the girl who was standing on the opposite side of the table. Instead, he dug his nose deeper into the appendix of the Charms textbook in front of him.

"Elsa." George felt his brother nodded curtly and smiled into the book. Of course Fred knew about what happened and had taken George's side in that it was rude of her to just run out.

"If she didn't want to snog you, she shouldn't have acted all jealous when you were with Libby!"

George found the listing for Invisibility and ran his finger down the list of sub-categories. He, however, was not concentrating on it, because he skipped over 'Cloaks' three times. He felt her lean on the table, and a shadow came over the page of the book.

"Interesting book, George?"

George chanced a glance up. She was smirking at him, knowingly. Her hair fell in ringlets over her shoulders and her dark blue eyes were sparkling.

George, reluctantly, let the book fall to the table. He immediately wished he hadn't, as he was graced with quite an eyeful. The black vest she wore left little to the imagination.

She stood up straight and he groaned aloud. Her impossibly short red and black plaid skirt hung low on her hips, a black leather belt slung loosely around her waist. And quite a bit of her creamy stomach was showing. _She has her navel pierced!_

George swallowed and chanced a glance up. She was evil. Pure fucking evil. There was only one word that came to mind when he looked at her in that get up. _Tease._

"Can I help you Miss Poe?" Fred interrupted George's thoughts. He groaned, again, when she shrugged and walked around to where George was sitting. She quickly moved his book away and hopped up on the table in front of him. She crossed one leg over the other. Her skirt had ridden further up her thigh. Her black knee-high boots clicked together.

"I was hoping to talk to George, actually." Her gaze dropped to George. She frowned slightly at the pained look on his face.

"I don't think – " Fred started, but Angelina entered the common room from the girls staircase just then, and he excused himself. _Traitor!_

"Did you need something?" George moved his chair back and stood. He started to collect his parchment and books when a hand on his wrist stopped him. He stared down at her fingers. There were two rings on her fingers: her thumb and her ring finger. Her fingernails were painted black. _And those damn bracelets… _

"I'm sorry," said Elsa. She scooted off the table, brushing down her skirt as she did. She turned to him then, her hand still on his wrist.

He nodded curtly. He couldn't think when she was touching him. He had to get her to stop touching him.

He tried to wrench his arm out of her grasp, but she had a firm grip for someone so thin and dainty. Sure, she was quite tall for a girl, but skinny enough to where his mum would be forcing food down her throat.

"Really. I'm sorry I ran out like that. I shouldn't have…I should've…I should've explained myself first."

George chanced a glance at her face. Her eyes, deep pools of blue, were surrounded by dark lines and brown shadow. Her eyelashes were thicker, too.

He was still staring into her eyes when people approached them. He looked up to find Angelina and Fred standing near them, watching the exchange curiously. Alicia was at the bottom of the girls' staircase. Both she and Angelina were dressed in similar fashion as Elsa: dark makeup and short skirts.

"What's going on?" George's eyes narrowed.

"Oh!" Elsa released his wrist and looked over to Angelina. "Fifth year girls and up are having a…party of sorts. An all-girl party," she added, almost as an afterthought.

"So, did you say what you needed to say?" George bit out. "Wouldn't want to keep you from your party." His eyes were glued to Elsa, but out of his peripheral vision he saw Angelina and Fred back up.

"No, I didn't. I really want a chance to explain myself. You've been ignoring me all week – "

"Now you know how it feels."

" – and I think," she continued as if she hadn't heard him, "that we should talk alone."

"I'm free now," he muttered, folding his arms over his chest.

"Well, as you can probably tell, I'm not. You picked a hell of a time to start talking to me again – "

"You came to me…"

"I didn't think you'd speak!" She huffed, throwing her hands up. "Look," she muttered after a brief silence, "I know you're upset. I understand. I want to talk to you without fighting."

"Me too." George conceited, a hint of a smile on his lips. He couldn't stay mad at her forever.

"Do you want to go for a run with me in the morning? Before Hogsmeade?"

George balked at her. Run? Him? Not since he was little. Not when there was a perfectly good broom around to ride.

"Okay," he said, going against everything his mind was screaming at him. He was internally laughing at himself. This would be funny to watch.

"Great. Meet you at 6:30." She turned and locked arms with Angelina. Together, they met Alicia and disappeared up the staircase.

Fred was laughing at him when he turned. "Ha. I'd like to see her try getting you out of bed at 6:30 in the morning."

"Me, too."

By some miracle, George did manage to wake himself up at 6:17 the next morning. He quickly rifled through his trunk. He pulled on a pair of black shorts and a scarlet 'Gryffindor Quidditch' shirt that read 'Beater' on the back in gold block letters. The shirts had been a going away present from Oliver Wood two years ago.

He had a miniature panic attack when he couldn't find his right shoe. After a moments searching he found it under his bed. He briefly wondered how it had gotten there, before tugging it onto his foot. He shoved his wand into the pocket of his shorts and trudged down the stairs.

Elsa was waiting for him near the portrait hole when he arrived in the common room. Her right leg was pulled up behind her, touching her head and causing her back to arch gracefully.

_Why does this girl insist on showing as much leg as she possibly can?_ George thought, referring to the black shorts that rested near the tops of her thighs. _Not that I'm complaining…_

She was still balancing on one foot, turning on it slowly. When she was facing him and noticed that he'd arrived, she smiled widely. She dropped her foot to the floor. She leaned down and grabbed the tips of her white trainers.

"You made it!" Her head was tucked between her arms against her knees, and her voice sounded strained. "You gonna stretch?"

"Er – " he quirked, but halfheartedly began loosening the muscles of his legs. He jumped up and down a bit, shaking out his arms and cracking his neck.

She stood, fiddling with the zipper of her black hooded jumper nervously. "Ready?"

He nodded and they silently made their way down the seven flights of stairs into the Entrance Hall and out the front doors of the castle. The sun was beginning to rise in the East. They walked in that direction.

"Where are we going?" George wondered aloud.

"Ever just wander around the grounds?" She began to jog slowly and he had to move faster to keep up.

"Not really," he muttered. His arms moved with his strides, bent at a ninety degree angle. She slowly picked up her pace, and soon George's lungs and legs were burning. It was embarrassing to him, as she began pulling away. He simply couldn't keep up.

"Race you to the pitch!" She called and was off sprinting. George stopped, breathing heavily, his hands on his head. They'd ran by the lake, to the gates and were coming back on the pitch. He sighed and chased after her. He had to admit, though, the view of her from behind was quite nice.

By the time he reached her, her breathing had slowed. She was leaning against the entrance to the changing rooms. She had shed the jumper and under it was a simple red athletic bra. Her arms crossed over her chest.

"A bit out of shape are we?" She smiled slyly as he came closer. Upon closer inspection, there was a thin sheen of sweat glistening on her skin, and her hair was damp. His chest rose and fell with deep breaths.

"I can't…breathe…" George held onto his side painfully, sucking as much air into his lungs as he could. It didn't seem like enough as he exhaled and he did it again.

Elsa came over to him then, as he gripped the stitch in his side tightly. She put her hands on his shoulders and leaned in to him. "Breathe in through your nose, out your mouth," she told him soothingly, brushing the damp fringe away from his forehead.

He did, and on his next breath got a whiff of strawberries and a flowery smell. He breathed out of his mouth, acutely aware of the fact that he hadn't brushed his teeth yet this morning. He hoped his breath didn't smell too bad, as he was breathing right into Elsa's face.

His breathing had finally returned to normal. He had opened his mouth to thank her, when her mouth covered his. She opened her mouth, swallowing his cries of surprise with her tongue, which licked at his lips.

As if he suddenly realized he was being kissed, he began kissing her back with as much force. His mouth slanted over hers his tongue sliding eagerly against her own. She tasted of strawberries and mint. At least someone hadn't forgotten to brush their teeth.

Her lips felt like heaven against his. His left hand slid into her hair, the other arm snaked around her bare waist, pulling her roughly against him. Her hands slid around his shoulders and into his sweat-dampened hair.

She made a noise and wrenched her mouth away from his. She placed kisses across his jaw and nibbled at his earlobe. He bucked up against her when she nipped at the spot underneath his ear.

Her hands moved from his hair to his chest and she shoved him against the wall. She moved back into him, her hands moving to the hem of his shirt, as her mouth attacked his.

George felt her warm hands against the skin of his waist as she pushed his tee shirt up. His hands moved down her body and gripped her arse. He lifted her up and her legs went around his waist automatically. Her arms moved up and around his neck as he carried her into the changing room.

He pushed her against a row of metal lockers. Her legs dropped from around his waist and one of his hands fell to either side of her head. He deftly felt her long fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt again, until he had to break his kiss for it to go over his head.

He plundered her mouth, their tongues flicking against each others'. He tangled his hands in her hair once again. Her hands were moving along the contours of his back.

Her lips moved, once again, from his lips to his neck. She nipped at his bare collarbone, leaving little marks in her haste. He felt her hands skimming underneath the tops of his shorts and grasped them.

He grabbed her wrists suddenly, and pushed away from her. She looked up in surprise.

Her lips were red and swollen from harsh kisses, her hair messy from his hands. Her eyes were wide as she looked at George. He didn't miss the flicker of desire in them. She slowly licked her lips, her eyes drifted back to his.

"What are we doing?" He let go of her wrists and stepped back.

"Don't worry," she muttered, stepping forwards. "I won't expect anything afterward." As if to punctuate her point, her hands traveled up her stomach to the bottom of her bra. She started to pull it up, but George stopped her.

"What?" He screeched, stumbling backwards, away from her. He'd moved too far and his legs connected with the bench in the middle of the room. He fell backwards and landed on his back with a loud 'thud'. He scrambled up quickly, his eyes trained on Elsa.

"I'm not Libby," said Elsa, taking a step forward. "If all you want is a quick shag, I'm not going to hold you to more than that." She kneeled on the bench and hooked her thumb in the waistband of her shorts. She drew it downwards an inch, teasing him.

"That's not what I want!" He cried, moving farther back and resting against the lockers on the opposite wall from where they started.

Her eyes narrowed at him, and she removed her thumb. "Well what is it that you want, exactly? It's obviously not me." She turned and walked over to George's shirt. She threw it at him and walked to the entrance. She stopped at the door and turned, her hand still on the wall.

"You shag Libby but don't want a relationship with her. Excuse me if I assume you just want a shag when you hit on me on Monday. I," she put her hand up to stop George's protest, "said I couldn't do it because I fancied you, George, and I wanted more than a quick shag. But then I decided that if that's what you wanted…"

"That's not what I wanted," George, who was staring at her wide eyed, his shirt clutched in his fist.

"I can see that, now," she mumbled, turning and leaving the locker room. George hastily pulled the shirt over his head and left the locker room. His eyes searched the vicinity for her.

She was heading back up the path towards the castle. She'd pulled her jumper back on. George ran after her. He could hear her crying as he approached. He stopped in front of her, effectively blocking her path.

She was trying desperately to get her zipper to work. She couldn't see the hole because of her tear-filled eyes. George stopped her with his hand and then brought both to her face. He leaned down a bit and met her lips with his. The kiss was gentle; just a brush. Nothing like the harsh kisses they'd shared earlier.

"I fancy you, too," said George. He ran his thumb over her bottom lip.

"What was Libby then?"

"A mistake," he said without hesitation. "I was a jealous git. The fact that Jarvey was snuggled up to you and…I guess I lost my head. Biggest mistake of my life."

"It hurt, seeing you two together." A single tear escaped her bloodshot eyes and he wiped it away with his thumb, pressing a kiss to the spot.

"I know, Love. I'm so sorry I hurt you." He wrapped his arms over her shoulders and pulled her close. She snuggled into his embrace, her arms going around his waist.

"So," he bent close to her head. His lips were pressed against her ear. "You want to be my girlfriend?"

He frowned when she didn't respond with an enthusiastic "Yes!" right away and pulled back. She bit her lip and pulled away from him completely.

"Do you think," she started, looking down at her hands briefly. She looked back up at him and bit her lip. "Well, I mean, I don't want you to think I'm ashamed of you or anything…"

George raised an eyebrow.

"It's just that, you know, I have to live with Libby and everything…"

"You want to keep it a secret?" His arms crossed over his chest.

"No!" She insisted. She hugged the jumper closer to her body, wrapping her arms around herself. "That's not what I meant!"

George sighed. Though he didn't want to admit it, she had a point. Libby could make their lives hell. However, he was nearly beyond the point of caring. He caught Elsa's eye and she smiled weakly at him. He sighed again.

"Okay."

She hugged him tightly around the neck, planting a kiss right on his lips. Then she moved away.

"So, no kissing or touching or holding hands or anything couples do?" He asked.

"You can still study with me," she told him as they headed back up towards the castle. George pulled a face and she laughed. "It'll help keep that Callum away at any rate. He's a real nutter, that one."

"That he is," George agreed.

They continued on in silence, reaching the front doors five minutes later. They climbed the seven flights of stairs to the Gryffindor common room. Before they entered the portrait hole, Elsa turned to George and put a hand on his arm, effectively stopping him from entering.

"Tori and I," she paused, taking a deep breath. Her cheeks tinted a pleasant shade of pink. "We're in the sixth floor classroom every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday nights religiously. From seven to nine. If you, you know, show up…well, no one can stop you and all…" she stuttered through. George smiled.

"Why Miss Poe. Were you suggesting I sneak out after curfew for a rendezvous in an empty classroom with a pretty girl?"

She crinkled her nose cutely.

"Not at all."


	9. Here Comes the Sun

Hogsmeade was George's third favorite reason to attend Hogwarts (the first being pranking and the second Quidditch)

**Chapter 9: Here Comes the Sun**

Hogsmeade was George's third favorite reason to attend Hogwarts (the first being pranking and the second Quidditch). He, Fred, and Lee spent the entire morning in Zonko's and, by the time they left for the meeting, were each laden down with a full-to-the-brim paper sack.

They were the last to enter the Hog's Head, snagging seats near the back with the girls. Fred and George moved to the bar to order everyone Butterbeers.

"Pay up, you lot! We don't have enough gold for everyone!" Fred shouted. In truth, they did. But who wanted to waste that much on perfect strangers?

"I've got yours, Angel," Fred smiled sweetly.

Lee passed him enough for his and Alicia's.

George shook his head discreetly when Elsa tried to pay him. She narrowed her eyes at him, but stuck the sickles back into her change purse, taking the dusty bottle from his hand.

He'd tried to pay attention in the meeting, he really had. He was completely one hundred percent interested in what Harry and Hermione had to say. Umbridge wasn't teaching them shit on how to defend themselves.

But something was distracting him. Or, more accurately, someone.

He had escorted Elsa back to the common room, taking care not to touch her in any way that would seem overly friendly. They'd parted ways in the common room for showers.

He'd gone down to breakfast with Fred and Lee. She'd come down with Angelina and Alicia ten minutes later. Her hair was curled prettily around her face, and she wore makeup. It wasn't as dark as the previous night, but the eyeliner made her dark blue eyes pop.

She'd smiled shyly when she sat down opposite him, and he'd reiterated with his own lop-sided grin.

His girlfriend was bloody _gorgeous_.

He wanted to shout it from the rooftops, but as they were keeping it to themselves for the moment, he refrained.

That had sent him scowling into his cereal. She'd made a valid point about Libby making her life a living hell, but he had a feeling it would take quite a while for Libby to "move on" as she'd been pining after him for years.

He made a mental note to remind Elsa of that, as well.

Now, though, Hermione was speaking about something important, he was sure. But the only thing he could think about was Elsa's white long-sleeved shirt. How it stretched across her chest, a chest he'd been seconds away from seeing bare. Or how it skimmed the waistband of her jeans. Depending on the way she moved, you could see bits of the smooth skin around her middle. She wore a thinner version of the Gryffindor scarf loosely around her neck.

People were standing now, and Fred had pulled him to the front of the pack and they were signing their names to something and then they were out of the crummy pub. They waited by the door and finally the girls and Lee exited.

"Where to, now?" Fred asked. He laced his fingers with Angelina, and George felt a pang of jealousy. He shot a glance at Elsa, who smiled back at him, shrugging her shoulders slightly.

"I need to head over to Gladrags," Elsa piped in when no one spoke. "I forgot my winter cloak at home and it's starting to get cold."

Fred groaned, and made a show of how unpleasant the idea of going cloak shopping with a load of girls was to him. Angelina smacked him upside the head.

"We're going to Honeydukes," George announced, steering his twin away from the girls.

"Fred, pick me up some chocolate frogs, would you? You've seriously depleted my stash!" Angelina called over her shoulder.

"Can you say whipped?"

"I got you these," George whispered, handing Elsa a small bag. She looked up at him, her eyes unfocused and glassy, and giggled. George smiled, taking another swig of the drink Elsa had brought from her dorm.

He glanced around his own dorm. He and Elsa were sitting on his trunk at the foot of his bed leaning against the posts. Angelina and Fred were snuggled up against the pillows of Fred's bed. Alicia and Katie were giggling on the floor, their own bottle between them. Lee was passed out on his bed.

"Ooh! Sugar Quills!" She promptly pulled one out and began sucking on it. It was yellow: lemon. She squinted her eyes from the sour taste. "Sour," she muttered. "See!" Then she proceeded to shove the candy past George's lips, nearly choking him.

"Oi, Ellie, I need that git! Don't kill him!" Fred called from his bed, slurring his words a bit from the alcohol. Elsa giggled at him in return and pulled out another sugar quill. This time it was grape and she sighed, contentedly.

A loud round of laughter turned George's attention to the floor. Katie and Alicia were rolling around on the floor. They were practically sobbing they were laughing so hard.

George giggled and slid off his trunk onto the floor. He laid on his stomach for a minute before using his arms to pull him across the room. He came up behind Katie and poked her in the back.

"What's so funny, Kat?"

The girls just kept giggling.

Three hours later, Katie and Elsa had George sandwiched between them, leaning against him as he hugged them to his body. His arms were wrapped firmly around their waists, and they were giggling.

"Shh!" he scolded. Elsa covered her mouth to stifle her giggles but they did not cease.

"George," Katie slurred. George rolled his eyes at his pissed friend. "You're my favorite," she leaned her head dreamily against his shoulder.

"Step," he whispered loudly and they each stepped down one stair. He halted for a moment while the two girls got balanced. And then muttered, "Step," again.

"So much sexier than Fred," Elsa agreed, her hand grasped George's on her waist. The little midnight excursion had caused George to lose his buzz and he was starting to wonder why he hadn't just left them giggling on the floor when the others had disappeared behind the scarlet curtains.

The pace moving down the boys' staircase was slow. Ten minutes later, the two giggling girls and very annoyed prankster opened the door and nearly fell out into the common room.

George hastily gazed around the room, glad to find it nearly empty save for Hermione and Ron. Hermione looked up, her eyes going wide.

"Look!" Elsa yelled. "It's Her-My-Knee!" She giggled again and swung herself out of George's grasp. She quickly lost her balance and fell onto the rug.

George groaned when Katie pulled out of his grasp, intent on helping up her friend. Instead, she fell onto the ground in a fit of giggles next to Elsa.

"Hermione," George moaned, scrubbing his hands over his tired face. "Please help me!" He glanced down at his girlfriend and friend.

Elsa was flat on her back, her shirt had ridden up leaving most of her midriff bare. Katie's head rested on her bare stomach and her finger toyed with the jewel dangling from her navel.

"How much have they had?" Hermione wondered aloud. Her brown eyes were wide and she stood stock still next to a couch. Ron smirked from his seat, perched on the arm of the same couch.

"I don't know!" George groaned when Katie started flicking Elsa's navel ring, giggling when it moved. Elsa laughed at the tickle the touch made and then they were laughing together. "We weren't really counting…"

"Where's Angelina and Alicia?" Ron turned his gaze from the girls on the floor to his brother.

"Up there," his finger pointed to the ceiling. "Fornicating…"

"Fo-Fornicating!" Elsa hiccupped. She sat up abruptly, effectively pushing Katie off of her stomach.

"George!" She reached out to him. "Fo-Fornic-cate!" She pushed herself off of the floor and swayed slightly. She moved towards him, stumbling and knocking into him. Katie giggled from her spot on the floor. He grasped her waist to steady her and had to take a step back to balance himself.

"Forni-cate with me Ge-George!" Elsa mumbled before her lips slammed against his. He heard a round of gasps as her tongue pushed roughly into his mouth. Then a giggle from the floor.

He grasped Elsa by the shoulders and pushed her away from him. Her eyes cast downwards. "Ellie," he muttered, before he felt and heard rather than saw her throw up all over his feet.

"Oh I'm sorry!" She stumbled, reaching for her wand. George stopped her. He saw tears in her eyes when she looked at him and he shrugged.

"It's okay. Just get upstairs. Please." She nodded but stared at him still.

_Oh God I hope she doesn't try to kiss me again_, he blanched the thought.

"I'll get Katie up first and be back for Elsa, okay?" Hermione turned to Katie and pointed her wand at the giggling girl. She was levitated into the air.

"Wee!" She cried. George quickly silenced her. Hermione nodded in thanks and levitated Katie up the stairs to the girls' dorms.

George cleaned off his shoes with his wand and then led Elsa, who had been standing in front of him, dazed, to a couch. He sat down with her and she fell against his shoulder.

Ron stared at them as he laid her back against the arm rest. She looked at him through foggy eyes, smiling drunkenly. He reached out and brushed hair off of her face. She grabbed his hand and laced her fingers with it. A few seconds later she was out.

"Fornicate?" Ron stared. "With you? She must've had a lot to drink!" He laughed.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm gorgeous," but he smiled at his girlfriend's sleeping form.

"Seriously. She's bloody nice to look at…I like the navel ring…" George narrowed his eyes at his little brother, who held his hands up in defense. "Just saying…"

"Yes, I know."

"I thought you were having it off with that other girl."

"I ditched her a while ago. Catch up on your gossip, bro." George smiled.

"So, really," Hermione returned down the stairs and sat next to Ron on the couch near where George was sitting, his fingers still entwined with Elsa's. "How much did you guys drink?"

George scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to think of a funny retort. "They had a lot," he said finally, too tired to think.

"You know, I should report you," Hermione told him matter of factly. George shrugged.

"It would be worth the detention."

"Getting pissed is worth the detention?" Ron's eyes narrowed.

"You've obviously never been pissed before, Ronnie," George smirked.

"Alcohol clouds a person's judgment. Generally people are more open, lively, and generally uninhibited," said Hermione as if she were reciting it from a book.

"Right you are, Granger. I like that word. Uninhibited." He winked at Ron, whose ears turned read.

Hermione rolled her eyes and pointed her wand at Elsa, levitating her body out of the room. George turned his gaze to Ron.

"So what were you and Granger doing down here alone so late?" He wagged his eyebrows at his brother. "Up to a little fornicating of your own, little brother?"

Ron's face was beet red, and he spluttered, shocked. "No!" he finally cried. George quirked an eyebrow. "We are waiting for Harry. Umbridge gave him detention…again!"

"You need to make sure that kid stays in line, Ron. Angelina will have his head if he has anymore detentions. He's had more with Umbridge than Fred and I have had all year!"

"That's a miracle!"

"Nah, you just gotta know how to not get caught. That's what that map is for, bro. Now if only he could keep his trap shut…"

The two were silent for a while, waiting for Hermione to return. "So…you and Elsa…"

"Are friends," he told him sternly.

"Looked a bit more than friendly to me," Ron commented.

"Yeah, well, you'd do well to forget what you saw tonight." He stood up, effectively ending the conversation. He headed back towards the boys' staircase. Upon reaching the door, he turned back to his brother, smirking.

"Tell your girlfriend thanks for her help."

"She's not…" but Ron's retort was lost as the door closed behind George.

He and Fred had been looking forward to Quidditch practice the following afternoon, much thanks to Charlie's sobering potion that he'd sent along with a note that said, "I'm not brewing more for you. You need those last brain cells. Save 'em."

George scowled at the joke. Ha ha, brainless, worthless Fred and George. Never amount to anything. Could never be as successful as their older brothers. Well, Bill was now officially George's favorite brother.

After he'd shown Fred the note, Fred felt the same.

As much as he'd appreciated Charlie's potion, it wasn't needed.

"That horrible woman!" Angelina came screeching into the common room. George and Fred looked up from their parchment. Angelina threw herself into a chair, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. Then, deciding she couldn't sit still, stood and began pacing.

Fred sighed. "What happened this time, Love." Angelina scowled at him.

"That Umbridge cow happened! Educational Decree what-ever-the-number…banned clubs and teams…have to get permission…frickin' Harry Potter!" She huffed.

"What?" Lee, who had been sitting next to George, asked.

"Sounds to me like Umbridge got Minister Fudge to pass another lovely Educational Decree banning clubs and teams, which obviously includes Quidditch," Fred bit out, frowning.

"And now Angelina has to get permission from Umbridge to reform the team and with lovely Harry Potter being in detention every other night for running his mouth…" George finished.

"It's a long shot," Angelina finished simply. Then her eyes narrowed at a spot over their shoulders. "Oi! Potter! I need a word!" and she was gone.

"She's right scary when's she's angry," Lee muttered. George smirked.

"Hello, boys," a voice behind them made them all turn. Elsa stood before them in a white wispy knee-length skirt and sea foam green shirt. She had her school bag thrown over her shoulder, and her hair was in loose curls down her back. Her face looked refreshed, and her eyes were slightly glassy, the effect of a recent Sober-Up! potion.

"Ellie!" Fred jumped up and walked around the couch, leaning on the back of it. "What can I do for you dearie?"

George and Lee also stood, looking at her expectantly. George looked especially anxious.

"I was hoping one of you could accompany me to the library. Last I heard, Callum was there, but I desperately need to do some research on Severing Charms for the extra credit essay." The question was directed at the three of them, but she was looking straight at George.

Fred snorted. Lee looked thoughtful for a moment. George spoke up first.

"I'll go."

Fred quirked an eyebrow at his twin. "You will?" George nodded.

"Sure. I mean, you'll have your hands full with Angie when she gets back and since there's no Quidditch today…"

"Why's there no Quidditch?" Elsa looked confused.

"Umbridge," Lee said simply, as if it was as simple as that. Elsa nodded.

"So, the library then, George?"

"Sure."

With a quick wave to Fred and Lee the two were headed to the library. George shook his head at her revelation that she actually did want to study and hadn't used that as a ploy to spend alone time with him. He decided that spending any time alone with her was enough and refrained from dragging her into an empty classroom on the way.

They arrived in the library and chose a table in the back. Elsa wandered off to find the book she needed and George sat at the table. He drummed his fingers impatiently, waiting for Elsa to return.

She was gone less than five minutes. When she came back, she had three thick, old books in her arms. She deposited them on the table with a loud 'thunk' and began pulling her things out of her bag. This included the music player she'd shown him all those weeks ago.

She pulled out another box that she told him contained more of these "compact disks". She made her selection and then offered a fuzzy to George.

"They're called headphones," she giggled. She pulled parchment in front of her and then opened a book. She pushed parchment in front of George and nodded to it.

"I will reward you. Promise."

As a muggle rock group filled his ear he smirked. Semi-reluctantly he began to work on his two foot Herbology assignment.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

George turned his head towards Elsa, who was scratching away on a long scroll of parchment. He scowled, the music pounding in his right ear. She'd changed the "compact disk" five times already, and he was hearing a song he'd heard before.

"It's classic muggle rock music, George," she'd told him of the new disc she'd put in. He listened as a new song started.

_  
Each morning I get up I die a little  
Can barely stand on my feet  
Take a look in the mirror and cry  
Lord what you're doing to me  
I have spent all my years in believing you  
But I just can't get no relief, Lord!  
Somebody, somebody  
Can anybody find me somebody to love?_

He cast another glance at Elsa and smirked.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

He licked his lips.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

He ran a hand through his hair.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

He winced as the singer hit a particularly high note.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Elsa pulled her fuzzy out of her ear and smacked a button on the player. She turned to him, her blue eyes blazing.

"Do you mind?" She asked angrily. George smiled cheekily.

"Whatever do you mean?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "The tapping. The licking. The…hair!" she motioned to his mussed hair. He looked up as if he could see, and then back at her.

"I like these Queens," he told her, leaning on his elbows on the table. She rolled her eyes at him and pulled her bag onto her lap. She closed her charms textbook and tossed it inside, along with her notes and assignment.

"Thank Merlin!" he gathered up his own parchment. "You've been at this for four bloody hours!" He held out his papers and she shoved them in her bag, also. "I actually finished my homework."

"Won't the professors be shocked," she muttered. "Scandalous."

She rose and carried her books to the return pile before pulling her bag onto her shoulders. She turned to George and he quirked an eyebrow at her, leaning against the table.

"I'd offer to carry your books like a proper bloke, but," he gestured to her bag, "those look heavy." She giggled and they left the library.

They were walking along the fifth floor corridor to a shortcut George knew of when Elsa pulled him into an empty classroom. She shut the door softly and rounded on George.

"What's this?" He wondered aloud when she hitched up her skirt a bit and perched herself on an dusty desk.

"Your reward..."

Queen "_Somebody to Love_"


End file.
